


I Killed Tom Riddle - The Philosopher's Stone

by Something_happens_sometimes



Series: I Killed Tom Riddle [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Canon Rewrite, Fix-It of Sorts, Friendship, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Depression, Self-Insert, Swearing, Tags Are Hard, Time Travel, half canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25825396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Something_happens_sometimes/pseuds/Something_happens_sometimes
Summary: You are a 17-year-old A-level student, who has full-on studied for the past 5 hours. It is a Friday, and tomorrow is your 18th birthday. So, to commemorate your childhood, you spend the rest of the night reading Harry PotterWhen you wake up early the next morning, you’re in a cupboard. And not just any cupboard; THE CUPBOARD. The one under the stairs. And you just so happen to have all 7 books, and the Hogwarts Library books – Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Quidditch through the Ages, and Tales of Beadle the BardSo, in conjunction to this new revelation, you decide to do the shit that normal Harry is not smart enough to do to. Like learning every spell possible, Legilimency, Occlumency, non-verbal spells, wandless magic, Apparition, and Dark MagicIn the meantime, you have to deal with the Dursleys, stupid Harry Potter universe logic, and everything in betweenOh, and fuck Quidditch, the fear of the sensation of falling is more powerful than following book logic
Series: I Killed Tom Riddle [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1873861
Comments: 35
Kudos: 174





	1. The Vanishing Glass

And then suddenly, small cupboard. With a bed in it...

Ok, what the actual fuck is going on?! If this was hell, then I would have to know right away! No point in the Devil fucking with my mind, and then telling me I was in Hell to pay for my sins.

Fumbling around for a light switch, my hand surveyed the dark air until it had found a cord and promptly pulled on it.

_Jesus Christ, this is so ‘80s. That wallpaper, that duvet cover. And the fuck am I wearing? No, wait, something’s wrong here. My god, why is everything so fucking blurry?_

I scrabbled around the small shelf to my left before finding some bent broken glasses that had _clearly_ seen better days.

Staring around the strange place with much better focus, I could very much see several books laying on the edge of the bed, piles of oversized clothes reaching a mountain high right at the foot of the bed, and upon turning around, more shelves with weird ornaments sitting on them. Looking down at myself, the clothes were enormous compared to my own body.

_And there was something between my legs!! Attached to my own fucking body!!! No, wait, never mind, it’s just a dick. Oh, sweet Jesus, why was everything bad happening to me?!_

Ok, let’s assess the situation: we are clearly hallucinating and in some sort of coma. That is the only conceivable way we are here. And don’t freak out; someone could hear us. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Repeat until calm and clear-minded.

First-step, what are those books at the end of the bed?

My arm reached out to the smallest one and placed it on my lap. _Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone_. What relevance does this have to the goddamn situation right now?! My eyes wildly darted over to the other books as I began to read the titles on them more clearly. All Harry Potter books. This only means one thing. I was fucking Harry Potter and had to change everything to where everybody lives. Well, from this point forward, anyway. Still confused on the workings of the Time-Turners though.

OK, scar, check. Wild hair, check. Broken glasses, check. Small body frame, check. Christ, this boy is anorexic. Did not realise how abusive the Dursleys were.

A knock came rapping on the door, and I had to rush to pull the covers over the books and open the door. ‘Get up!!’ Petunia shrieked. ‘I don’t want anything going wrong on Duddykins’ birthday. You know that you little brat.’

‘I’m up, Aunt Petunia. I promise nothing will go wrong,’ I replied a little shakily.

‘I better hope so, young man, or there’ll be consequences,’ She said ever loudly. ‘Look after the bacon. Don’t you dare let it burn.’

I slid off the bed, making sure the books were tucked and hidden from sight, and wandered into the most ‘80s kitchen ever. I almost tripped over the bin, trying to look at everything. Straightening up, I walked over to the oven, and made sure to keep an eye on the bacon, my stomach rumbling quietly. Like it was trained to do that… you know what, I need to focus on what happens today.

Dudley’s 11th birthday; he’s going to throw a tantrum over the presents; Petunia is going to get that arse two more; they’re going to find out Mrs Figg has broken her leg and have to take me to the zoo; don’t mention the dream of Sirius’s motorbike; that rat-faced boy is coming along; snake escapes; vanishing glass – reminder: stay away from the boa constrictor, I want to be fed; don’t mention magic, Vernon will go ballistic; just don’t do anything wrong, there’s an ice-cream treat for lunch and I really want to try that lemon ice-lolly.

I mean look at all those presents on the table. _37_ _presents_!! _For one kid_!!

Focusing my attention on the bacon, leaning in dangerously close, just to get a whiff of that sweet, sizzling meat, I didn’t hear what Vernon was yelling at me for when he walked in. Probably the hair. It’s not my fault I look like someone you’re prejudiced against.

When the bacon was done, I turned my attention to frying eggs while Dudley came lumbering in. When I say lumbered, I mean he really isn’t as big as the books make him out to be. His hair’s a bit wispy, and he does have a neck, but his eyes are brown. Odd note.

Setting everything onto the table, even though there was incredibly little space, Dudley was staring at the presents, his face falling soon after.

‘Thirty-six,’ he said, looking up at Petunia and Vernon. ‘That’s two less than last year.’

Darling, you haven’t counted Auntie Marge’s present, see, it’s under this big one from Mummy and Daddy.’

‘Alright, thirty-seven, then,’ Dudley said, going red. Ope, time for that failed tantrum, and let’s bolt down the bacon. Obviously, Petunia noticing that tantrum, spoke up.

‘And we’ll buy you another _two_ presents while we’re out today. How’s that popkin? _Two_ presents. Is that alright?’

Then I’ll have… I’ll have…’ He said, sounding thoughtful. Dumbass kid can't even do kindergarten maths.

‘Thirty-nine, sweetums,’ Petunia replied.

Dudley sat back down and began unwrapping his presents. Bing, bang, boom, the phone rings, and Petunia went to answer it. A few moments later, while Dudley was ripping the paper off of a gold watch, Petunia walked in looking worried and angry.

‘Bad news, Vernon,’ she said. ‘Mrs Figg’s broken her leg. She can’t take him.’ She shot a dirty look at me, and I continued looking at my last bit of bacon.

Dudley’s mouth fell open in horror; I just looked unsurprised. Of course, bitches. Imma ‘bout to ruin your day.

‘Now what?’ Petunia said furiously, still looking pissed at me.

‘We could phone Marge,’ Vernon suggested. Lmao, ok, you go do that, you nonce.

‘Don’t be ridiculous. She hates the boy.’ She snapped back. Ope, alright, no shit she hates me, she’s incredibly disrespectful. And she fucking supports child abuse!!

‘What about your friend, Yvonne?’

‘In Majorca.’ Is that how you say that? Man, I’ve been saying Majorca wrong for years. There isn’t even an _i_ anywhere in there.

‘I suppose we could just take him to the zoo,’ Petunia said slowly, ‘and leave him the car…’

‘That car is brand new; he’s not sitting in it alone…’

And right on cue with my memory of the plot-line of Philosopher’s Stone, Dudley started faking-bawling his eyes out, the little bellend.

‘Dinky Duddydums, don’t cry, Mummy won’t let him spoil your special day,’ she cried, wrapping her arms around the git. (Ha, you wish, you twat, I have Hogwarts to look forward to anyway. Why would I ruin something so meaningless to the Harry Potter universe?)

‘I… don’t… want… him… t-to come!’ Dudley stuttered pathetically. Should I confront the Dursleys about magic, or just let it all unfold? I mean, I am going to see Hagrid in a month, anyway. Oh, dear god, I’m going to have to relive primary school all over again. Oh no. ‘He always sp-spoils everything!’

In the middle of the whole cabackle, the doorbell rang. Ah yes, Piers Polkiss, that rat-faced kid. Is he rat-faced, or is J.K. just mean to those who don’t look beautiful?

‘Oh, Good Lord, they’re here!’ Petunia said frantically, and soon enough Dudley’s friend walked in with his mother. Not really rat-faced.

So many things happening and I am somehow in the car squished in between Dudley and Piers, on my way to the zoo. Oh boy, here we go.

Right, so Vernon kept complaining about the traffic, work, and Harry- I meant me, got to get used to this…

Whatever you do, don’t mention the bike. Don’t mention the bike.

What a lovely sunny Saturday to have a trip to the zoo. I don’t like it. It’s just surprising that the heat doesn’t affect me as much. It’s so wild. And now I’m stressing out about I ended in a kid’s body. So many panics!!

There was an ice-cream van up at the front of the entrance, and I got that lemon ice lolly. It was alright. A bit overly sweet. The rest of the morning was perfectly fine. I’ve been to better places. I was careful to be a few steps away from the Dursleys, to make sure I don’t get punched from Piers and Dudley. Lunch was fine. That knickerbocker glory tasted good.

Time for the reptile exhibits. That sounds a bit wrong in my head. All the lizards and the snakes were interesting to look at. Oh no, Dudley and Piers are watching and taunting that boa constrictor. Really need to keep my step away from that. Let’s go look at that python.

Everything went perfectly normal by my predictions. The glass didn’t vanish. Nothing went wrong at all and I didn’t get locked in the cupboard. I was careful to avoid anything that might set Vernon and Petunia off. The ride home was alright. No one questioned my quietness. Too scared to do anything or say anything. You have no idea how little Harry eats. A literal half of what normal children eat.

It’s midnight now, and I’m going to write down my plan to sort everything for the next seven years. Good thing I nicked a pen and a bit of paper.

  1. **HIDE LETTER BUT DON'T OPEN FOR SAKE OF PLOT**
  2. **BE SURPRISED WHEN HAGRID COMES AND VISITS**
  3. **BE ON NEUTRAL TERMS WITH DRACO MALFOY**
  4. **FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DON'T END UP IN SLYTHERIN - YOU NEED RON AND HERMIONE**
  5. **SORT OUT SCABBERS**
  6. **NO POLYJUICE POTION IN YEAR 2**
  7. **STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM LOCKHART**
  8. **BECOME FRIENDS WITH CEDRIC DIGGORY**
  9. **NO PARSELMOUTH SHIT IN THE DUELLING CLUB**
  10. **KEEP INVISIBILITY CLOAK SAFE AT ALL TIMES**
  11. **DON'T FORGET CLOAK WHEN SENDING NORBERT/A AWAY**
  12. **FIND MIRROR OF ERISED**
  13. **LEARN WANDLESS AND NON-VERBAL MAGIC BY BOOK 5**
  14. **LEARN OCCLUMENCY AND LEGILIMENCY**
  15. **PICK CARE OF MAGICAL CREATURES TO BECOME CLOSER TO BUCKBEAK**
  16. **PICK ARITHMANCY AND MUGGLE STUDIES BECAUSE THEY ARE MORE INTERESTING THAN DIVINATION - ALSO, YOU ALREADY KNOW THE PROPHECY**
  17. **GET BAG OR TRUNK THAT IS BIGGER ON THE INSIDE BUT MAGICALLY LIGHT**
  18. **GET A SHIT TON OF EDUCATIONAL BOOKS**
  19. **SAVE EVERYONE**



Gonna need to update this list along the way. I shouldn't lose this.

Oh shit, it was my birthday yesterday. Motherfucker...


	2. Letters from No One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The letters arrive and wreak havoc on the Dursley household

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, I don't own Harry Potter, but we as a fandom own it. I don't know who J.K. is. Trans rights are human rights. Black rights are human rights.

Oh, my fucking god, primary school is the worst. I don’t have friends, I’m bullied all the fucking time, I’ve spoken to teachers about this, but they haven’t fucking done anything yet, I’ve gone to the headmaster and he hasn’t done any-fucking-thing yet as well. Everyone is fucking incompetent, and I hate my life. I’m hungry all the time. My clothes are so over-sized.

Also screw numero dos on my list. I’m writing them back, and making sure that a teacher, or at least Hagrid comes and visits me at the Dursleys’, not at some weird shack in the sea. Learning from every other self-insert Harry Potter fanfic, I will change scenes entirely.

I did spend copious amounts of what little free time I had re-reading the Harry Potter books to get the timeline as close to reality as possible.

It was early one morning when I was sitting at the table, eating my breakfast, and wondering how I got here. My eyes were a little bloodshot, but I don’t know whether that was from the crying or the late-night reading. Or probably just the smell from the “clothes” Petunia was dyeing for secondary school. I mean primary school was finally over, I’m eternally grateful for that. I kept my mouth shut from arguing with her. Vernon and Petunia kept berating me at every little thing that was “different”, and I couldn’t really stand up for myself as a 10-year-old neglected child.

Dudley came sauntering in with that damn Smeltings stick, and Vernon went about reading the newspaper of the day. We all heard the click of the letter box and the flop of letters onto the doormat.

‘Get the post, Dudley,’ Vernon said from behind his newspaper.

‘Make Harry get it.’

‘Get the post, Harry.’

‘Fine.’

I dodged a little waver of the Smeltings stick and went into the hallway to get the post. I remembered this scene clearly. Harry was too stupid to stick it through the grate in his cupboard, but that did mean he got an actual bedroom, though. Letter or bedroom… Letter or bedroom… While debating which choice to choose, something was yanked out of my hand and Vernon and Petunia were whispering to each other frantically. At that moment, I realised I had picked up the godforsaken letters, and walked blindly into enemy lines. Well, enemy lines meaning the kitchen/living room. Dudley was demanding to see that precious letter, I was standing and gaping like a bloody fish, and Petunia and Vernon were talking among themselves and repeatedly saying _no_ to Dudley.

‘I want that letter,’ I said slowly. For some reason, I was a little scared about speaking up against them.

‘ _I_ want to read that letter,’ Dudley demanded, swinging the ruddy Smeltings stick around.

‘It’s mine. I have a right to read it,’ I said more loudly and clearly, picking up a bit of confidence with every word. ‘It is addressed to me, no one else in this household. I… know what it is.’

‘ _OUT!_ ’ roared Vernon, and both me and Dudley were caught by the scuff of our necks and dragged into the hallway. He slammed the door shut and Dudley pushed me aside to lean in against the keyhole.

I never bothered to find out what that conversation held, because I knew what they were saying. _Magic is dangerous. We swore when we took him in, we’d stamp out that dangerous nonsense. What if they’re spying on us?_

Much later in the evening when Vernon came home from work (what did he do anyway, and how much was he earning to feed and clothe three other people on a single income?), he came and visited me in my cupboard (when did I start calling it that?).

‘Where’s my letter?’ I said firmly.

‘Nowhere,’ he replied. ‘I burned it.’

‘Why?’

‘Not now! Look, your Aunt Petunia and I have had a little talk, and we think this cupboard is a little small for you now. So, you’re moving into Dudley’s second bedroom. Move this stuff up quickly. Now.’

I never questioned the Dursleys in the early days. Especially Vernon. I think it was out of fear and punish- no, literal torture, that I kept my pipes closed. Dudley was wailing the entire time on why _he_ needed two fucking rooms to himself, while I deserved no less than a broom cupboard. It was never anything new. My old parents never cared for me, and my sister was treated the same way Dudley was. We were a bit well off, and I tried with every ounce in my body to get the best grades, even now in A-Levels. 4 subjects – English Lit, Physics, Maths, and History. I hid my stress with nicotine and caffeine, so no one would see my pain. But I shouldn’t waffle on now, we have a story to tell.

In the end, I got the bedroom, and Dudley holed up in his bedroom all night, sneaking down to the kitchen to get food at like 1 in the morning.

The letters kept coming and coming. In the bleeding eggs (absolutely hilarious, Fred and George would have a right old toff with me about it), through various windows. It was driving Vernon mad, and I had to hide my glee at it.

I never got my hands on a single one, as either of the three Dursleys would yank them out of my hand when I got one, crumple, and destroy it any way they could before I could see its contents.

Aaannnddd Sunday arrived. I guess you could see how that planned out. The infamous line of ‘No post on Sundays. No damn letters today…’, the rush to pack and head to the car, with many an argument between Dudley and Vernon, while both me and Petunia stayed on the good side of Vernon for obvious reasons.

We drove and drove and drove, stopping and starting, staying at odd places for a while. In the dust of evening, Vernon stopped at a decrepit hotel, and hurried us along inside. The next morning, the breakfast was miserable, a hundred letters arrived, and the four of us drove away.

Dudley mentioned some programmes being on, and how it was a Monday. Oh, yeah, Harry’s 11th birthday’s tomorrow. And Hagrid would arrive at midnight.

A little while later, we arrived at a coast, and Vernon announced that it was the perfect place to stop at. We clambered into the old boat and drifted out to sea to the crumbling shack. It had been a slow day for all of us, and everyone was at their wits end. Dudley was complaining loudly every so often; Petunia looked scared out of her mind; Vernon was muttering wildly to himself; and I let my mind go blank, to forget, to skip forward in time. I was emotionless. I don’t know why I never spoke up about knowledge of magic. I guess I’m fulfilling No. 2 on my list. Gotta cross off No. 1 though. That went flying out the bloody window.

The inside of the shack was worse than its exterior; it smelt strongly of seaweed, the howling wind whistled through the gaps of the broken wall, and the fireplace was cold empty.

Vernon had brought some crisps and bananas, as well as a rifle. He had tried to light a fire with crisp packets, but they shrivelled up and turned to ash.

‘Could do with some those letters now, eh?’ he said in a nervous but cheerful tone. He clearly thought that no one would be able to reach us in the middle of nowhere. That’s some bullshit right there. You know these people can do magic right. They can _fly_.

Night befell soon enough, and I was left to find some comfort on the damp stone cold floor while everyone else had at least a bit of decent bedding to sleep on.

I tried getting a bit of sleep but only managed to punch a few hours in. the lighted dial on Dudley’s watch told there was five minutes before midnight. Five minutes before Hagrid arrives. Four minutes… Three… two…

One minute to go. Thirty seconds… ten… five – four – three – two – one…

BOOM. And the whole shack shook.


	3. The Keeper of the Keys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hagrid joins the scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aight, so a lot of this chapter is originally the actual chapter, but we do have changes due to Harry's perspective.
> 
> Pls don't sue me, I wrote this chapter in the early hours of the morning because I couldn't sleep from the humidity in my room that's way higher than the rest of the house, but it's all good now.

Dudley jerked awake, babbling about a cannon, and Vernon thundered in from the next room holding the rifle. ‘Who’s there?’ he shouted. ‘I warn you – I’m armed!’

There was a small pause before a loud crash appeared and the door flew right off the hinges (must’ve been extremely rusty) and landed flat on the floor. Hagrid stood in the doorway and stepped inside. What I had to say about him was that he fitted more of the look of Hagrid in the films than he did in the books. About 7 feet tall, wild mane of black hair, moleskin coat covered in pockets.

‘Couldn’ make us a cup o’ tea, could yeh? It’s not been an easy journey.’

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen in fear.

‘Budge up, yeh great lump,’ he boomed.

Dudley squeaked and ran behind Petunia who was crouching in terror behind Vernon. Wait, is this the first time he’s learning about magic too? No wonder he’s prejudiced – though, at least he grows out of it.

‘An’ here’s Harry!’ Hagrid exclaimed when he turned to me. I was still shivering from the cold and the gross floor I sat on.

‘Excuse me, but who are you?’ I asked, trying to sound inquisitive. But Vernon interjected, and armed the rifle at Hagrid. Oh, nice way to meet the man who saves me from you.

‘I demand you leave at once, sir!’ he said. ‘You are breaking and entering!’

‘Ah, shut up Dursley, yeh great prune.’ He reached over the sofa, yanking the rifle out of Vernon’s hands, completely and utterly destroyed it before throwing it into the corner. Vernon made a weird noise that sounded like a mouse being trampled on.

‘Anyway – Harry,’ Hagrid turned to me, his beard crinkling a little, so I think he was smiling. Aww, such a wholesome character. ‘ A very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat for yeh but I might ‘ave sat on it at some point. I think it’ll taste alright, anyway.’

 _*gasps*_ The famous cake!! Hold the slightly confused face, hold it; got to keep everyone in the dark about what you know. But still, it’s going taste great, especially after a month of actual starvation. Can’t wait for a full stomach.

From the inside of his coat, Hagrid pulled out a slightly squished box and handed it to me. My hands were trembling, and as I swallowed my excitement, I opened the box to find a large chocolate cake with the words _Happy Birthday Harry_ on it in green icing.

‘Th-thank you,’ I stuttered out in surprise. ‘But don’t mind me asking, but who are you exactly? I’m a little confused to why you’re here.’

‘True, true, I haven’t introduced myself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds of Hogwarts.’

He went to shake my hand (more like my arm) and persisted still for some tea or something stronger. Total hint towards his mild alcoholism. Butterbeer’s got to taste good, right?

His eyes fell on the fireplace, and prepared to light it with the umbrella, though the rest of us couldn’t actually see what he was doing. A couple of seconds later, a warm rush of flickering light filled the room, and my body had noticeably stopped shivering. Hagrid also brought out a kettle, some sausages and a poker, chipped mugs, and amber liquid (totally Butterbeer) in which he took a swig of before making tea and cooking sausages.

After the wave of the smell of sizzling sausages, I turned to Hagrid, preparing to “ask” him about Hogwarts.

‘Well, what is Hogwarts anyway?’ I piped up.

‘What do yeh mean, what is Hogwarts?’ Hagrid boomed. Well, he was very surprised. ‘I knew yeh weren’t getting yer letters, but I didn’t think yeh wouldn’t know ‘bout Hogwarts! Where do yeh think yer parents learnt it all?!’

‘Is Hogwarts some sort of school?’ I replied. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t really know.’

‘DURSLEY!!’ That yell shook the shack more than when Hagrid originally entered. I had jumped and had accidentally slid off the sofa. The Dursleys were cowering in the corner, and I could feel the anger actually radiating off of Hagrid. He became even more towering than ever.

‘Do yeh mean to tell me, that this boy knows nothing about anything!’

‘Hey, I know a bit. Like I don’t know… magic…’

It was impulsive to do that, to deviate from the sacred text, but I had to. I had to do things my way.

‘Harry… Look, yer parents _were_ -’

‘STOP!! I FORBID YOU TO TELL HIM ANYTHING!!’ Vernon bellowed, gathering more fake confidence as though he was preparing to fight a half-giant. Oh, that’s hilarious.

‘You can’t stop me from knowing who my parents were. Who says you to chain away information about my own damn past?’ my voice had screamed out in desperation and tiredness, wanting to stop, wanting to fight myself against all the prejudices that lay deep in society. And I’m going all melodramatic. Maybe from all the pent-up anger from my previous life?

‘Oh, fine if you really want to know then,’ Petunia said all shrilly. She stepped out from behind Vernon, at the same time I propped myself onto my feet to face her.

‘It was my dratted sister being who she was, receiving that bloody letter, and then running away to that _school_ of hers, coming home every summer with frog spawn in her pockets and turning teacups into rats. She was a-a _witch_ , and our parents were _so_ proud of having one in the family. It was always Lily this, Lily that.

‘And then she met that Potter boy at school and left and got married and had you. I knew you were just as strange – just as _abnormal_ – and if you please, she went and got herself blown up, and we got landed with you.’ It must’ve been so painful living like that. So understandable, of course. Always being overshadowed by the younger sibling, because you were always _“the test child”_ , and trying really hard not to hate them and yourself.

‘You said they died in a car crash,’ my face white as the moon. ‘And are you suggesting I’m a wizard?!’

‘Of course, yeh a wizard, Harry,’ Hagrid spoke. ‘And what do yeh mean died in a car crash?! How could a car crash kill Lily and James Potter? It’s an outrage! Harry Potter not knowin’ his own story when every child in our world knows his name!’ he roared, making the Dursleys jump and scuttle into a corner.

‘What happened though?’ I asked urgently. And the flick of anger switching to anxiousness on Hagrid’s face told me he was going to speak of Lily and James’s death and of Voldemort.

‘First things first. Here’s yer letter.’

I had completely forgotten about it by the time Hagrid mentioned it, and immediately, I took it from his hands, and opened the letter, carefully reading it through. I had to ask the right question of course.

‘What does it mean, await my owl?’

‘Oh, that reminds me,’ Hagrid slapped a hand to his forehead, fumbled about for a quill and bit of parchment, writing down the note to Dumbledore, before handing it to a very ruffled owl he took out of another pocket and sending it out the window.

When me and Hagrid were sitting on the sofa, he went into a long talk about the dark days of the war and this powerful wizard roaming about – managed to get him to say Voldemort, and held my face at surprise for effect – as well as Lily and James fighting him one Halloween night and dying, sacrificing their lives and love for Harry- I meant me; and then about the scar on my head, and how it was a probably a curse scar.

There was something going wrong with my head. It as Hagrid’s story was ending, that I saw a blinding flash of green light, and something else… a cold, high laugh that sent shivers down my spine. That wasn’t supposed to happen!!

Hagrid was watching me sadly. ‘Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore’s orders. Brought yeh ter this lot…’

‘That – that is a load of old tosh,’ said Vernon. I flinched a little since I could see he was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched. Or possibly I blocked him from my memory for a short while.

‘Now, listen to me here boy,’ he snarled. ‘I may accept that there’s something off about you. Nothing a good wallop wouldn’t have cured – and as for your parents, well, they were weirdos, no doubt about it, and the world’s better off without them in my opinion – asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types – just as I expected, always knew they would come to a sticky ending-’

At that moment, Hagrid leapt to his feet, brandishing the pink umbrella he pulled from the coat. He pointed it at Vernon, holding it like a sword, and said, ‘I’m warning you Dursley. One – more – word…’

In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant, Vernon’s courage had failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent.

‘That’s better,’ Hagrid said, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa.

‘Hagrid, do you know what happened to Volde- You-Know-Who?’ I sat back down on the floor by the sofa, just wanting to hear Hagrid’s opinion on the matter. The floor was still a little uncomfortable.

‘Good question, Harry. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill yeh. Makes yeh even more famous. That’s the biggest mystery… He was getting more powerful, so where’d he go?

Some say he died. Codswallop in my opinion. Reckon there’s not enough human in him to die. Some say he’s still out there, biding his time, but I don’t believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of ‘em came outta trances. Don’t reckon they could’ve done if he was coming back. Most of us reckon he’s still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. ‘Cause somethin’ about you finished him. There was something going on that night he hadn’t counted on – I dunno what it was, nobody does – but something about you stumped him, all right.’

I only had about four years before Voldemort came back, and I needed to practice as much magic as I could to survive, and save Cedric, and Sirius, and everyone else. Tomorrow, I needed to get all the books on the school list for the next 7 years. And a lightweight, bigger on the inside bag or trunk to carry everything in. And find out the spell that duplicates clothes, food, and ingredients without losing their magical properties. Count No. 18 off of my list.

‘Haven’t I told you he’s not going,’ Vernon hissed. _Why keep me here when I can be out of your sight 10 months of the year?_ ‘He’s going to Stonewall High and he’ll be grateful for it. I’ve read those letters and he needs all sorts of rubbish – spell books and wands and –’

‘You can’t force me to go where I’ll be wearing bits of old elephant skin while everybody else will have proper uniform. I will be going to Hogwarts because my parents wanted me to be there,’ I spitefully spat back. Vernon looked positively flabbergasted.

‘If he wants to go, then a great Muggle like you won’t stop him,’ growled Hagrid. ‘His name’s been down since he was born. He’s off to the finest witchcraft and wizardry school in the world. He’ll be with youngsters of his own sort, fer a change, an’ he’ll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had. Albus Dumbled-’

‘I’M NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!’ yelled Vernon. Of course, he had to insult Dumbledore, and in front of Hagrid of all people. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it around his head. That could actually hurt someone without magic; there’s other ways to hold an umbrella.

‘NEVER – ’ he thundered. ‘ – INSULT – ALBUS – DUMBLEDORE – IN – FRONT – OF – ME!’ he brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley – oh fuck, oh fuck no – and there was a flash of a violently purple light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his bottom and howling in pain. He did, in fact get a pig’s tail, and Hagrid politely asked me not to tell anyone at Hogwarts. The Dursleys were in the other room (keeping Dudley safe, no doubt).

‘Be grateful if yeh didn’t mention that to anyone at Hogwarts’, he said. ‘I’m – er – not allowed ter do magic, strictly speaking. I was allowed to do a bit to follow yeh and get yer letters to yeh and stuff – one of the reasons I was keen to take the job.’

Why aren’t you allowed to do magic?’ I asked, a bit stupidly.

‘Oh, well – I was at Hogwarts meself, but I – er – got expelled, to tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped my wand in half and everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man Dumbledore.

'Anyway, it's getting late, and we have lots to do tomorrow. Going into town and getting yer books and all that.'

I didn’t ask anything for the rest of the night, though I was allowed to kip under the coat. It was enormous and was wriggling in one or two place. Probably some mice.

I lay underneath the thick moleskin coat still wondering why I got that vision of the Killing Curse and Voldemort’s damn laugh, when I wasn’t even Harry Potter. I shouldn’t be getting this type of shit. Is Harry Potter’s soul still inhabiting this body in one way or another? Or was it because of the Horcrux part, that I was getting it? I’ll try and ponder it in the morning, because oh boy, I have not slept at all tonight.


	4. Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has a long day in Diagon Alley, where he meets Malfoy, Hedwig, and Ollivander.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a bit carried away, so now you have a longer chapter to read. Hope everyone is doing well.

The sun was shining through the window early the next morning, and I was already up and ready for my day. I had a couple of the cold sausages from the previous night (I don’t remember eating any though) and had paid an owl for the Daily Prophet. I was prepared for my first introduction to the wizarding world. I knew what going to happen; what was at stake.

As Hagrid was awakening, and getting prepped for the day out, I read the newspaper. I wanted to anyway, to see the moving pictures. It was quite bland, with several articles written by the one and only Rita Skeeter.

“This is very fascinating, Hagrid,” I said, referring to the newspaper. Genuinely, nothing prepares you for a magical newspaper with actual sound.

“It’s nothin’ new. Not a lot happens nowadays. Not since You-Know-Who’s time,” he replied, putting on his coat and grabbing his umbrella.

“What’s a Ministry of Magic?”

“Well, their main job’s ter keep it from the Muggles that there’s still witches and wizards up an’ down the country.”

“Oh… And there was something mentioned here about a Gringotts. What is a Gringotts?”

“Gringotts is the wizard bank, where yer mum and dad’s money is held. Yeh weren’t left with nothing, yeh know. It’s run by goblins and you’d be mad to rob it. It’s the safest place in Britain – ‘cept maybe Hogwarts, o’ course,” Hagrid said matter-of-factly. “And I got to go to Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business. He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin’ you -getting things from Gringotts – knows he can trust me.

“Got everything? Come on, then.”

Hagrid had drew himself up proudly as we walked out on to the rock and settled into the boat.

He tapped the side of the boat with his umbrella, and off we went back to shore. Hopefully, he’ll send the boat back so the Dursleys can get home.

“Wait, why would you be mad to rob Gringotts?” I asked.

“Spells – enchantments,” Hagrid said while unfolding the newspaper. “They say there’s dragons guarding the high security vaults. And yeh gotta find yeh way as well. Gringotts stretches hundreds of miles under London. Deep under the Underground. Yeh’d die of hunger trying to find yer way out, even if you did get yer hands on summat.”

I ran some trains of thought on that last sentence while Hagrid was reading. There must have been so many thousands of tunnels and ways under the Gringotts building. Weaving in and out through each other. Hagrid talking about the Ministry and Fudge whilst reading the Daily Prophet were like Static to me. White noise, with some spinets of words every so often.

Soon enough, we hit the harbour, and like a miracle, it was empty, so Hagrid sent the boat back to the shack on the rock. We both knew that leaving the Dursleys like that was not the best option right now.

Many a bystander kept staring at Hagrid while we went through the coastal town to the station. Yeah, no shit honey, Hagrid doesn’t fit into your goddamn boxes and expectations of what _normal_ people should look like! He’s the cool drunk uncle.

He didn’t seem to notice but was marvelled by Muggle things like parking meters and kept exclaiming wonder of them. What happens next? Oh right, the dragon thing.

“Hagrid, did you say there were dragons at Gringotts?”

“Crikey, yeah. I’d like a dragon. Think they’re fascinating creatures.”

“You’d like one?”

“Wanted one since I was a kid – here we go.”

We reached the station. Thank fuck, I can sit down on a comfy seat again. At least there’s a train to London in five minutes. Hagrid didn’t understand normal money, so I had to handle it and get our train tickets. Even when we were on the train, people kept goggling their eyes at us. At this point, I had come to terms to being this weird, fictional world, and had accepted my fate, so was kind of pissed at everyone who wouldn’t mind their own business.

Hagrid was knitting some sort of canary-yellow scarf (Hufflepuff?). “Still got yer letter there, Harry?” he asked as he was counting stitches.

“Oh, yeah, let me just get it out,” I replied, then pulling out the envelope from one of the big arse pockets on this big arse hoodie.

“Good. There’s a list of everything yeh need.”

My eyes skimmed over the list several times, absorbing as much information as possible in a short amount of time. _Wand; books; robes; telescope; cauldron; phials; scales_. My fingers traced every word, and my eyes were filled with stars. Errrrrr, sorry you had to see that – I have a little creative side.

“Where are we going to get all this in London?” I wanted to know the basic route to the Leaky Cauldron.

“If yeh know where to go.” Oh, wonderful way to give a cryptic answer, I just want to map out our journey through London.

It was calming to be back in London after a topsy-turvy month in Surrey. I had a fleeting thought of where the London Eye was. Then I realised it was 1991; and then again, I remembered the Leaky Cauldron was in the West End, around Charing Cross. I have a weird memory. So, no London Eye. That sucks to not have an iconic landmark.

We passed by so many places on our walk to the Leaky Cauldron, I wondered if we would ever find it. Hagrid seemed to know what he was doing, so I put my faith in him to find the pub.

When my brain had fogged up, and I mindlessly followed Hagrid through what felt like all of London, we stopped outside a grubby little pub. Well, if Hagrid hadn’t pointed it out, I wouldn’t have noticed it. Thank fuck he did though, as we could finally get away from all the prying Muggle eyes.

Hagrid steered me inside, and I had to silence a surprised gasp. There were people of all sorts in here, doing bits of magic now and again, but I didn’t want to come across as rude, so I just took a few glances everywhere. “The usual, Hagrid?” asked Tom the barman.

“Can’t Tom. I’m on Hogwarts business,” Hagrid replied, clapping a hand onto my shoulder, which made my knees slightly buckle.

“Good Lord.” Now Tom had finally noticed me. “Is this – can this be –?” And now the entire pub has gone silent. Fantastic.

“Bless my soul. Harry Potter – what an honour,” he whispered.

Tom hurried out from behind the bar with tears in his eyes, presumably to shake my hand and exchange a little small talk. Not one moment later, chairs were scraping, and everyone was shaking my hand, wanting to meet the Boy-Who-Lived. There was one person I recognised from later books, and that was Dedalus Diggle. He was about as tall as me, and his hat fell off in excitement when I said I recognised him from somewhere. I don’t know what happened, but I had suddenly got a flash of a memory of him bowing to me in a shop right before we shook hands.

The person who I instantly recognised came forward. That purple turban, that pale face, that nervous tick: goddamn it Quirrell!

“Ah, Professor Quirrell!” Hagrid said. “Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts.”

“P-P-Potter,” he stammered, grasping my hand, “c-can’t t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you.”

“Hi, what sort of magic do you teach, Professor?”

“D-Defence Against the D-D-Dark Arts,” he muttered back with a fearful look in his eyes. “N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-Potter? You’ll b-be getting all your equipment, I s-s-suppose. I’ve g-got to p-p-pick up a new book on vampires, m-myself.” He looked even more positively frightened at the thought and shook his hand goodbye before walking away.

For the rest of the pub, it took me about ten minutes to get away from them all, with Hagrid to help me steer through the pub and into a small, walled courtyard with nothing but a dustbin and a whole bunch of weeds.

“Yeh famous, yeh see. Even Quirrell was trembling to meet yeh. But mind you, he’s usually trembling.” I wasn’t going to question that; I knew it was a bloody façade. Boy, I can’t wait to get rid of him. And Lockhart.

Hagrid raised his umbrella and tapped the wall in a strange pattern. A couple of taps on two to three bricks, and they began to break apart to reveal an archway leading to a street. Diagon Alley. “Welcome to Diagon Alley, Harry.”

And off we went on our merry way down the zig-zaggy street, passing all sorts of shops and people. For the first time, I was really amazed at the scenery. Of course, I had never seen magic before, so I had to look everywhere. It was bustling, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from anything. Was this the world I was going to live in for the next 7 years? ‘Cause it is brilliant.

We walked by the Owl Emporium, with every kind of owl, and even a few bats. We passed the Quidditch shop where several other kids were commenting on the Nimbus 2000. Eventually, we stopped in front of the Gringotts building. There were big marble pillars, and the sign on the front of the doors was the rhyme I knew too well.

_Enter Stranger, but take heed_

_For what awaits the sin of greed_

_For those who take but do not earn_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn_

_So, if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours_

_Thief you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there_

OK, the last line clearly highlights the caged dragon/s, which is kidnap and probably slavery, just like with the house elves; at least I will rescue it in book 7.

Reminder - 20) **HELP HERMIONE COME UP WITH A DIFFERENT APPROACH FOR** **S.P.E.W. IT’S LESS HUMILIATING FOR ALL OF US.**

“Like I said, yeh’d be mad to try and rob it,” said Hagrid.

A pair of goblins bowed us through the doors, and we stepped right into a great marble hall. More than a hundred goblins were sitting on high stools behind a counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins on brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet the goblins were showing people in out of these. Oh, shit, the goblins are a symbolism for Jews. No wonder there were so many mentions of goblin riots in the books. I think… Mental note, respect goblins – they deserve it, and they have powerful magic. Like the house elves – also need to respect them.

We made our way for the counter.

“Morning,” Hagrid said to a free goblin. “We’ve come ter take some money outta Mr Harry Potter’s safe.”

“You have his key, sir?”

“Got it here somewhere,” Hagrid said, and started on emptying his pockets on the counter, scattering a few mouldy dog biscuits by the goblin’s book of numbers. “Got it,” Hagrid held up a little golden key. The goblin looked at it closely.

“That seems to be in order.”

“An’ I got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore, as well. It’s about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen.” (Ah yes, the Philosopher’s Stone). The goblin read the letter intently.

“Very well,” he said, giving the letter back to Hagrid. “I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!”

Griphook led them down through one of the doors leading off the hall once Hagrid got all the dog biscuits back in his pockets. The goblin opened the door, and instead of there being more marble, there was a dark stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped down steeply, I became a little nauseated, and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled for a cart to come, and we all got in and travelled down into a maze of tunnels. My eyes stung a little as a cold rush of air hit my face, but once or twice I saw a gust of flames from a passageway, which I assumed to be a dragon. We plunged even deeper into an underground cave with a lake, me gripping the side of the cart with more force than I usually would have. Hagrid was also not looking very well, so I deterred from talking to him. Better for the both of us.

Hagrid did look a bit green when the cart stopped by a door in the passageway wall and had lean against it. Griphook unlocked the door with the key, and a lot of green smoke billowed out (was it supposed to do that?). When it cleared, I saw huge mounds of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. Thank you, Fleamont Potter. Oh, if the Dursleys saw this, they would snatch it up before I could even take a single Sickle. Hagrid helped me to pile some into a bag. Well, around 50 Galleons, Sickles and Knuts. It’s soothing really, numbers.

“The gold ones are Galleons,” Hagrid started to explain. “Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon, and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle. It’s easy enough. Right, that’ll be enough for a good few terms, we’ll keep the rest safe fer yeh.” He turned to Griphook. “Vault seven hundred and thirteen now. And can we go more slowly?”

“One speed only.”

We plunged even further down, and the cart was collecting speed. The air was becoming colder and colder as we rattled around sharp corners. We reached the vault soon enough, and I saw that it had no keyhole.

“Stand back,” Griphook said importantly. He stroke the door with a long spindly finger, and the door melted away. “If anyone but a Gringotts goblin did that, they would be sucked through the door and trapped inside.” I kept my mouth shut.

Hagrid stepped inside, grabbed a little grubby package, and tucked it deep into his coat. “Come on, back in this infernal cart,” he said.

The light of day was something to behold once you’ve deep underground. I didn’t know where to go first now I had a shit ton of money. I made another mental to check the conversion rate between Wizard money and Muggle money.

“Might as well get yer uniform,” Hagrid said, nodding to _Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions_. “Listen, Harry, you don’t mind if I slipped off for a pick-me-up at the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts.” I nodded, and headed into the shop alone, a little excited and a little nervous.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling woman dressed in all mauve. It was a nice colour and I thought it suited her.

“Hogwarts, dear?” she asked, when I started to speak. “We’ve got the lot here – another young man is being fitted up just now, in fact.” She led me to the back of the shop, where a pale, blond boy was being fitted robes by another staff member. Draco Malfoy. Remember No. 3 – neutral terms with Malfoy. It will save you. Madam Malkin stood me on a stool next to Malfoy, slipped a long robe over my head, and began to pin it to the right length.

“Hi, my name’s Harry Potter,” I said quickly before he could get a chance to initiate the conversation.

“You’re the famous Harry Potter?” he exclaimed. “Well, I’m Draco Malfoy, and I think that we’ll make just great friends. So, what house will you be in? I expect to be in Slytherin, my whole family has been – except for a few weeds here and there.”

“I’m sorry, I only found out last night that I was a wizard, so, I don’t really know what house I’ll be in or what Slytherin is.”

“You only found out last night?! I suppose it makes sense if you lived with _Muggles_ , though. You know, I don’t think they should let that sort in Hogwarts anyway. Keep it in the family, I say. But I suppose half-bloods are alright. You’re a half-blood. _Muggleborn_ mother and pure-blood father. The Potter name is quite respectable.

“Now let me get onto the houses. There’s Slytherin, emblem snake, colours green and silver, founder Salazar Slytherin, traits are ambition and cunning, you wouldn’t find any Muggleborns in there, it’s a rarity; then there’s Ravenclaw, emblem eagle, colours blue and bronze, founder Rowena Ravenclaw, traits are wit and knowledge; Hufflepuff, emblem honey badger, colours are yellow and black, founder Helga Hufflepuff, traits are loyalty and a sense for justice; and Gryffindor, emblem lion, colours are scarlet and gold, founder Godric Gryffindor, traits are bravery, which goes hand in hand with stupidity, and chivalry. If I ended up in either Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, I’d think I’d leave. But I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad. They have a cunning sense about them. They’re smart.”

“That’s a lot to take in, Draco,” I said. “Why’d you say Muggles with distain? Most of them think magic is fictional, so they really just harmless nowadays. I guess, back when they did believe it existed, that would be a reason why you don’t like the word or the people. I think Ravenclaw would be a nice house to be in. Or Gryffindor.”

“You make an interesting case, Harry. But we have magic, which makes us better than them. we can do things that defy their understanding. We’ve accomplished remarkable things. Now, have you heard of Quidditch? I think it’s absurd first-years aren’t allowed their own broomsticks, but I think I’ll try and get Father to get me one; to practice.”

“That sounds like a sport, and I don’t really like sports. And, I think that just because we have magic doesn’t make us any less interesting or superior to Muggles. They’ve come up with some awesome stuff that’s better than magic. Like the phone: it allows Muggles to talk with other Muggles instantly through long, underground/over-ground electrical wires that connect to a device in which you speak through. I think.”

“Hmph,” Draco said in a bit of a posh tone. I knew we couldn’t be allies if I didn’t fix this now. And if we did become allies, I would need to drastically change his mentality about pure-blood supremacy.

“Look, Draco, I want to be friends with you. But I can’t if you carry on thinking this way. We could be good allies, you know.”

“I’ll think about it. I say, look at that man.” He nodded over to the window where Hagrid was standing and holding two ice-creams.

“Oh, that’s Hagrid. He took me here for school shopping, because you know, my parents are dead.”

“I’ve heard he’s not that clever. A bit of an alcoholic and has a fondness for dangerous creatures.”

“He’s a good person once you get to know him. Maybe you should try that.”

“Perhaps, but only if you agree that we are allies. I want your affirmation.”

“Yes. I know you’re not a bad person, Draco. You’re a normal kid, just like the rest of us.”

I suspected he would have difficulty on changing his mentality, and I was worried he wouldn’t change at all. I hoped that my words would change him for the better.

“That’s you done, my dear,” Madam Malkin said. I hopped down from the footstool and was about to leave when Draco called out “Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts, Harry.” Well, that’s a start.

The ice cream Hagrid got me was quite good. We spent a while walking around Diagon Alley, picking up supplies, quills, and ink. I was a bit quiet though, but my excuse was that I kept looking around the place, taking everything in.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Well, there’s this boy I was talking to at Madam Malkin’s shop, and he mentioned something about Quidditch. I think it’s a sport, but we didn’t go into much detail.”

“Quidditch is the wizard sport. It’s like football. Everybody follows it. It’s played up in the air – on broomsticks – there’s four balls – sorta hard to explain the rules.”

“Well, Draco says it’s absurd that first-years aren’t allowed their own broomsticks, but I think it’s understandable why. We’re kids, anyway.”

“Draco Malfoy?”

“Yeah, he seemed a bit pretentious, but alright.”

“Yeh best avoid him. His father was one of the ones who came back from You-Know-Who’s side, claiming he was under a spell, but I don’t believe it. Summat about it doesn’t sit well with me. Besides, the Malfoys are known for their pure-blood supremacy. You promise me, you won’t do anything bad with him?”

“Maybe, but he did seem to genuinely want to be my friend.”

“OK. But I don’t want you to get in any sorta trouble with him. I’m looking out fer yeh.”

“Thanks.” I swear to god, Hagrid is too wholesome.

We went into Flourish and Blotts to pick up my school books, and I requested if I was able to get some books a little advanced for my age. Hagrid allowed me to pick up second and third year books (thank fuck anyway, ‘cause it’s not like I’m not going to be learning in DADA next year, and almost the entire book list was comprised of Lockhart’s books), and I finally got my hands on a magical trunk that’s bigger on the inside and lightweight.

I got the rest of what was on my list except for a wand. The brass scales were decent, and the cauldron wasn’t heavy to carry. The apothecary’s smelled of all sorts of potions ingredients though. Outside the apothecary’s, Hagrid checked my list again.

“Looks like yeh just need a wand – oh yeah, I still haven’t got you a birthday present yet.”

I felt myself going a bit red. “You don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t have to. Tell yeh what, I’ll get you an animal. Not a toad, they went out of fashion years ago. Not cats, they make me sneeze. I’ll get yeh an owl. Every kid wants an owl, they’re dead useful, carrying yer post and everything.”

And sure enough, twenty minutes later, we were walking out of the Eyelops Owl Emporium carrying a large cage with a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head tucked under her wing. I said my thanks, and we headed to Ollivander’s.

It was quite small, and Hagrid sat on the only chair we could see that wasn’t behind the counter. From floor to ceiling, thousands of thin, long boxes of wands lay stacked on top of each other. It very much had an eerie feel towards that, and the magic from all these wands shook me to my core.

“Good afternoon” a soft voice said from the shadows. I jumped a little and turned around to see an old man with silver eyes that shined like the moon in the gloom of the shop.

“Hello,” I said awkwardly.

“Ah yes. I was wondering when I would be seeing you Harry Potter.” He said. “You have your mother’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work. Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well I say your father favoured – but, it’s really the wand who chooses the wizard.”

He had come so close to me that we were almost nose to nose. It was extremely uncomfortable.

“And that’s where…” He touched the scar with a long white finger.

“I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it,” Ollivander said softly. “Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… Well, if I had known…” He shook his head, and to my relief, spotted Hagrid.

“Rubeus! How nice to see you again… Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn’t it?”

“It was, yes sir,” Hagrid replied.

“Good wand, that one? I suppose they snapped it in half when you were expelled?” Ollivander became quite stern.

“Yes, they did sir,” Hagrid said, shuffling his feet. “I’ve still got the pieces though.”

“But you don’t _use_ them?” Ollivander spoke sharply.

“Oh, no, sir,” Hagrid replied quickly, gripping his umbrella tightly.

“Well now – Mr Potter. Let me see.” He pulled out a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. “Which is your wand arm?”

“Oh, errrr” – fuck, Harry’s supposed to be right-handed, not left – “ I’m left-handed.”

“Hold out your arm. That’s it.” He used the tape measure to record my height, my arm span, everything. Still, it’s not as uncomfortable when he was standing right in front of me.

“Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr Potter. We use unicorn hairs, dragon heartstrings, and phoenix feathers. No two wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes. And of course, you will never get such reliable results with another wizard’s wand.”

Right, then explain to me how many goddamn unicorns, dragons, and phoenixes there. Are the tail hairs on a unicorn different from one another? And how the fuck do you get a heartstring from a dragon?! They’re massive! Phoenixes have got be rare as fuck, though. Can’t remember from their section in Fantastic Beasts, though. Got to read that one more; it’s actually very interesting. And the tape measure is measuring me by itself. Ollivander was sifting through the wands, taking down boxes.

“That will do,” he said, and the tape crumpled to the floor. He brought the boxes over to me and had me try out each and every one. It was tiresomely exhausting, but Ollivander just seemed to get increasingly excited. I guess I was a challenge. Eventually, we came to one that “felt right”. The holly wood wand, eleven inches, and a phoenix feather. As I waved it, it shot out red and gold sparks, and he was exclaiming “Wonderful! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well… how curious… how very curious…”

“I’m sorry, what’s curious?” I said.

“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr Potter. Every single wand. And it just so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave just one other feather. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar.”

That’s so fucking chilling.

“Yes, curious how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember… I think we must expect great things from you Mr Potter… After all, He Who Must Not Be Named did great things… terrible, yes but, great.”

And getting the wand was finally over. I paid seven Galleons for it, and Ollivander bowed us from his shop.

The sun was hanging low in the late afternoon as me and Hagrid walked back down to the Leaky Cauldron, though it was empty when we got there. I was too tired to notice people staring at us carrying all sorts of strange packages, as well as a sleeping owl, through the Underground. We had a bite to eat before my train arrived, and before I got on to travel straight back to Surrey, Hagrid gave me my ticket for the Hogwarts Express. I made sure that I was sitting alone the whole journey. At least the train station wasn’t far from Privet Drive, and I could walk back slowly and calmly, my lightweight trunk carrying all the stuff I got today, and I held Hedwig’s cage in the other hand.

The Dursleys let me in but didn’t say anything to me. I was allowed to keep all my stuff up in my room, with all the Harry Potter books, and Dudley’s broken or abandoned presents. Maybe I’ll practice a Vanishing charm on them to clear up space because I’m technically not in school yet, so they can’t expel me. Hermione did the same thing around her Muggle parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I changed things up between Harry and Draco. I really want them to be not enemies, so Harry can focus more on fighting against Voldy Moldy and the Ministry.


	5. Journey from Platform Nine and Three Quarters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OC-Harry finally gets onto the Hogwarts Express, meets Ron, Hermione, and Draco.

For the last month, I’ve spent almost the entirety of it in my room. Practising spells, learning all I can from my new books, making sure I’m fully aware of what happens in the next chapters of this year. I’ll be going to King’s Cross tomorrow and have requested for a ride there from Vernon. He agreed, but only because he was going to sort out Dudley’s “affliction”. Good thing they’ll be there to laugh at the mystery of no Platform 9 and 3/4. It’s even worse because Petunia knows how to get onto the platform but never told Harry. It’s just sick.

The trunk could easily fit three of me inside with room to spare, and even when I set everything into its place in the trunk, it was still very lightweight. It’s like a spacious closet. I put all the Harry Potter books in there, just in case Petunia finds them, and I don’t know if that’s for better or for worse.

Sometimes I sleep inside the trunk because of the closure and the warm dark that keeps me safe. It’s comfortable and helps with my panic attacks. I don’t know whether I’ll be able to leave this world or not. If I’m stuck, then my body in the real world could die. But if I get out, then Harry Potter may surely die before he meets Voldy in the Forbidden Forest.

I get flashes of Harry’s past sometimes, and the overwhelming misery and depression that was his childhood hits me right in the feels. I don’t want this. I shouldn’t be able to see into his past anyway. I’m me… just me… I should only be able to remember my past, not his. Dumbledore might have the answers, but I won’t be able to get into his office until the end of Year 2. He does come and visit Harry in the Hospital Wing at the end of Year 1, so I may have a little chat with him then. Oh fuck, I forgot about Christmas! I can talk to Dumbledore when I go see the Mirror of Erised! This is genius!! Me and Dumbledore. Working together. I could kill Voldemort sooner.

I know Snape will ask some damn questions to Harry, and I’ve memorised the answers, so I don’t humiliate myself. Remember to close off mind, Snape and possibly Dumbledore are Legilimens. Think of ‘90s things, which should help. Don’t accept the duel from Malfoy if he says anything about it. Practice _accio_ to get Remembrall from Malfoy, we can’t do Quidditch. Don’t lock Hermione in the girls bathroom. Investigate what brought us here – go to the Library. When getting the Chocolate Frog card of Dumbledore, mention Nicholas Flamel; gets us moving along quicker. I can’t stress this enough: don’t forget cloak when sending Norbert/a away.

September 1st. It’s time. No going back. I stayed awake the entire night sorting my stuff out in my trunk, placing things where they wouldn’t fall for the world. My stomach’s clenched, and my breathing’s heavy. My spells are good, and the Summoning Charm I’ve been practising is half decent. My wand, though, connects to something… not me. I mean, it chose me, but not me.

At seven am, when I had Hedwig safely in her cage and my trunk locked, Vernon helped me put my trunk in the boot, and Petunia convinced Dudley to sit next to me. Off we went to London and King’s Cross. We reached the station at half ten. Vernon dumped my trunk onto a trolley (completely messing up my system if you ask me) and wheeled it in for me. He was going to point out Platform 9 and ¾ didn’t exist, that there was only platform nine and ten; and then he stopped dead in his tracks, looking at the platforms with a horrible grin.

“Well, there you are, boy. Platform nine – Platform ten. Your platform should be here somewhere in the middle, but they don’t seem to have built it yet,” Vernon had became smug. “Have a good term.” He had an even nastier grin, and walked away with Petunia and Dursleys, all three of them cackling while they did. My mouth went a little dry. I couldn’t see the Weasleys yet or Malfoy, but I guess Malfoy would already be on the train with Crabbe and Goyle.

I slowly walked towards the platform barrier, my knees buckling slightly, and my fingers were drumming against the trolley rail anxiously. 15 minutes left, and the train would be gone.

“Packed with Muggles, of course…”

That voice. That sentence. I know that. Molly and the Weasley kids are here. I went to turn around, but a group of red-headed people passed by. Of course. Heart thumping, I pushed my trolley after them.

“Now, what’s the platform number?” Molly asked, as though it was meant as a test.

“Nine and three quarters,” piped up a little red-haired girl stepping out from behind Molly’s side. Ginny. “Mum, can’t I go?”

“You’re not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. Now, Percy, you go first.”

Percy ran straight for the ticket barrier, and suddenly vanished. A moment before, I glimpsed a shining red and gold on his chest. Possibly the Prefect badge.

“Fred you’re next.”

“I’m not Fred, I’m George,” said one of the Weasley twins. “Honestly woman, you call yourself our mother? Can’t you tell I’m George?” First introduction and he pulls that line. Ah, always cracks me up, those two.

“Sorry George, dear.”

“Just kidding. I am Fred.” Before he ran straight through the barrier, with George tailing after him.

“Excuse me,” I said finally.

“Hello dear,” Molly said. “First time at Hogwarts too? Ron’s new too.” She pointed to the gangly eleven-year-old, his face covered in freckles, his hair red as the evening sky. Ron waved nervously.

“How do you get onto the platform?”

“Not to worry. Just run straight at the barrier between nine and ten and don’t stop. Don’t be scared you’ll crash because that’s important. Go on before Ron.”

“Thank you.” I nodded to Ron before running straight at the barrier, careful not to close my eyes. Right before I hit it, I skid and passed right through onto Platform nine and three quarters. I done it. The train was a scarlet steam engine and had been packed with other students. The platform itself was busy, and I pushed through to the end. Some kid asked his gran he lost his toad, so I think that was Neville. A small crowd was surrounding a boy with dreadlocks. I couldn’t hear what they were saying.

I finally reached an empty compartment I was looking for near the end of the train. Before I could pull up my trunk into the compartment, the Weasley twins came over, introduced themselves and offered to help me. I went a little red and accepted out of politeness. They commented on the lightness of it, but nonetheless never complained and helped to put it on the rack. They proceeded to leave me alone out of respect for my wishes, and I watched their conversation with their mother from the other side of the window. Then, Ron got on and asked to sit with me.

The train started to move, and I watched Ginny and Molly as they disappeared around the corner.

“Hi. I’m Harry. Harry Potter,” I introduced myself.

“You’re Harry Potter?! Hey, I’m Ron Weasley,” he said. “Have you really got the – you know…” he pointed at my forehead. I promptly pulled up my fringe to show the scar.

“Wicked!” He stared at it for a few moments before realising what he was doing and quickly looked out the window.

“Are your whole family wizards?”

“I think so, but mum’s got a cousin who’s an accountant, so we never really talk about him. I heard you live with Muggles. What are they like?”

“Not bad, but my Muggle relatives are horrible. Wish I had a couple of brothers.”

“Five. I’m the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. Bill and Charlie have already left – Bill was Head Boy and Charlie was captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Percy’s a Prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot but they still get really good marks, and everyone thinks they’re really funny. Everyone expects me to do well as the others, but if I do, then it’s no big deal because they did it first. You never get anything new either, with five brothers. I’ve got Bill’s old robes, Charlie’s old wand, and Percy’s old rat.”

Goddamn it Pettigrew. We need to have a little chat later on, and I have let everything follow the narrative too much. Is that a bad idea? Oh look, the traitorous bastard is sitting on my best friend’s lap.

“His name is Scabbers and he’s useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being a Prefect, but they couldn’t aff- I mean, I got Scabbers instead.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being poor you know. Until a month ago, I never knew magic existed. I never got any real birthday presents, and I always get my cousin’s old clothes.”

We were out of London now, and passing through fields. We were quiet for a while, just staring out of the window. At half twelve, the trolley lady arrived, and we got a bit of everything, Ron abandoning the corned beef sandwich on the empty seat beside him.

“Oh look, Chocolate Frogs,” I exclaimed, holding one up in the natural light.

“They’re not actual frogs, if you’re wondering. And they have cards in them to collect – Famous Witches and Wizards. I’ve got around five hundred, but I haven’t got Agrippa or Ptolemy.”

I unwrapped the one I was holding and took out the card. It had an old warlock’s face on it, with a long silver beard and half-moon glasses. Dumbledore.

“This is Dumbledore?!”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of Dumbledore!” Ron said. “Can I have a card? I might get Agrippa – thanks –”

I flipped over the card to read the description:

_Albus Dumbledore, currently Headmaster of Hogwarts._

_Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times,_

_Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of_

_the dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald in 1945,_

_for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood,_

_and his work on alchemy with his partner_

_Nicholas Flamel._

_Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling._

“Nicholas Flamel? Isn’t he that famous alchemist?” I asked aloud.

“I don’t know. I never heard of him.” Ron said while going through a Cauldron Cake.

“Oh, he’s gone.”

“Well, you can’t expect him to hang around all day. Oh, I’ve got Morgana again, and I’ve got about six of her. Do you want it? To start your collection.”

His eyes wandered over to the other few unwrapped Chocolate Frogs.

“Help yourself. But in, you know, Muggle photos, people stay put in photos.”

“They don’t move at all? _Weird!_ ”

We went through the rest of the Chocolate Frogs, and in the end, I got Merlin, Hengist of Woodcroft, and Circe. Ron finally got Agrippa, but not Ptolemy. He kept punching the air when he took out the card.

“Bertie Botts Every-Flavour Beans,” I read the title on the small, rectangular box.

“You’ve got to be careful with those,” Ron warned. “When it says every flavour, it _means_ every flavour. You get all the normal ones like spearmint, chocolate, and marmalade, but then there’s ones like spinach, liver, and tripe. George reckons he got a bogey flavoured one once.” He picked up a green one and nibbled the corner of it. “Bleaargh – see, sprouts.”

“What? I like sprouts.”

“How do you like sprouts? They taste disgusting and bitter.” Ron chuckled.

“They taste amazing, and they are not bitter.” I laughed back. Ron joined in the laughter, and we tried the rest of the jelly beans, laughing happily at each other’s reactions to every one we tried.

The countryside was gone now, the train going through a wild forest with twisting rivers and trees, and dark green hills. It was afternoon now.

A knock at the door, and poor Neville had lost Trevor. We didn’t see the toad yet but wished Neville good luck on finding him. He did look worried. His grandmother must really be pushy. I get she wants Neville to be great like his Auror father, but how can you do that while also putting Neville down? Let him grow into his own person.

“Don’t know why he’s so bothered,” said Ron. “ If I had a toad, I would try and lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can’t talk. He might’ve died and you wouldn’t know the difference. Anyway, I tried a spell to turn him yellow to make him more interesting, but it didn’t work. I’ll show you.”

He rummaged around his trunk and pulled out a very battered wand with a bit of unicorn hair sticking out the top.

“Unicorn hair’s nearly poking out. Anyway…”

The compartment door opened again. Neville was back with a girl with bushy hair in her Hogwarts uniform. Hermione’s here!

“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one,” she said in an assertive sort of voice.

“No, sorry. We’ve already said to Neville we don’t know where he is,” I replied, but she wasn’t listening. Her eyes were locked on Ron’s wand.

“Are you doing magic? Let’s see it then.” Oh Christ, eleven-year-old Hermione is _not_ good at social interaction. Hermione sat down beside me, and Ron looked taken aback. He raised his wand and said the spell, though it did nothing.

“That wasn’t very good, was it? I’ve tried a few spells for practice, and it’s worked for me. No one in my family’s magic so it was a shock for me when I found out–”

“What’s your name?” I asked, cutting her off. I feel a little bad about that. I held out my hand, and she shook it.

“Oh, I’m Hermione Granger. And you two are?”

“I’m Harry Potter, and this is my friend, Ron Weasley.”

“I’m your friend?” Ron cracked a smile. I nodded.

“Oh, you’re Harry Potter? I know all about you of course – I’ve got a few extra books for background reading, and you’re in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_.”

“That’s a lot of books,” I said. “I got some advanced spell books to practice my magic. I want to be good at this sort of stuff.”

“You were doing homework before we reached Hogwarts?” Ron exclaimed, looking shocked.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m new to this stuff.”

“Do you know what house you’ll be in? I’ve been asking around, and I hope I’m in Gryffindor. It’s sounds by far the best, and I heard Dumbledore himself was one, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad. Anyway, we’d better go and look for Neville’s toad. You two better change you know, I expect we’ll be there soon.” Hermione walked out, with Neville tailing after her.

“Whatever house I’m in, I hope she’s not in it,” Ron said spitefully. He threw his wand into his trunk. “Stupid spell – George gave it to me; bet he knew it was a dud.”

“Are your brothers in Gryffindor?”

“Yeah, my entire family has been. Don’t know what mum and dad will say if I’m not one. Probably not suited for Ravenclaw, but Hufflepuff wouldn’t be too bad. Can you imagine I was put in Slytherin? I think I’d hop on the train back home.”

“What do Bill and Charlie do, now they’ve left Hogwarts?” I tried to take Ron’s mind off of worrying about the houses.

“Oh, Bill’s doing something in Africa for Gringotts, and Charlie works with dragons in Romania,” Ron said. “Did you hear what happened at Gringotts? It was all over the Daily Prophet. Don’t suppose you’ll hear that with the Muggles. Someone tried to rob a high security vault.”

“Oh my God. Isn’t Gringotts supposed to be safe?”

“Yeah, but nothing was stolen. And no one was caught either. It’s why it’s such big news. Dad says it’s probably some Dark wizard who could’ve got into Gringotts, but like I said, they didn’t take anything. That what’s odd. ‘Course, everyone scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who was behind it.

“So, what’s your Quidditch team?”

“Oh, er… I don’t support any at the moment, but I’ve got _Quidditch through the Ages_ , so I’m trying to figure out which team I like best.”

“I support the Chudley Cannons. You should too, then we’d support the same team.”

“Sure. It’s time I pick a team anyway. Why’s now not the time?”

Ron went to open his mouth, but then the compartment door opened again. It wasn’t Hermione or Neville. It was Draco, with Crabbe and Goyle.

“Hello Harry. I thought I’d find you here. These are my friends, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.”

“Hey Draco. Vincent, Gregory. This is Ron,” I gestured to Ron, who was staring coldly at Draco.

“I know who Weasley is.”

“Why don’t you go back to your little Death Eater friends, Malfoy?” Ron stood up.

“I suggest you don’t hang around riffraff like Weasley, Harry. It might rub off on you.”

“Draco, I know you think Ron and his family are blood traitors, but they have more dignity than you if you carry down this pure-blood supremacy path.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You know how those Muggles are.”

“That’s only small fraction of what Muggles really are. You could end up in a lot of pain and suffering with this way of thinking. I’ve seen it happen to other people, and it didn’t end well for them. Remember what I said to you in that shop. Just because you’ve heard that some people are bad doesn’t make them bad. They could be good once you get to know them.”

“Harry, why are you trying to make friends with people like these? Malfoy’s father used to be part of You-Know-Who’s inner circle.” Ron interjected furiously.

“What makes you the judge, jury, and executioner, Weasel?” Draco spat back.

“No need to start a fight. We could be in a lot of trouble. ” I stepped between to the two boys.

“Fine. Don’t come crawling back to me when Weasley accuses you of something false.”

Goyle reached for a Cauldron Cake but yelped back in horror. His finger was bleeding, and Scabbers looked to have bit him. Draco and his cronies promptly left, with Hermione entering the compartment a few moments later.

“Have you been fighting? You don’t want to get into trouble before we even get there. And you better hurry up and change. The driver says we will arrive at Hogwarts in five minutes.” She said.

“Scabbers has been fighting. So, do you mind if we change, then?” Ron said, pulling out his robes from his trunk.

“Well, I only came in here because people have been running up and down the corridor and acting very childishly,” Hermione said in a sniffy voice. “And you’ve got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?”

Ron glared at her as she left, but I stared out the window. It was actually getting dark, and I had to pull out my plain robes. I pulled my trunk off the rack and plunged my arm deep in it to get the robes. Ron exclaimed, and I had to explain my trunk was both lightweight and bigger on the inside.

We had finally changed when the train was slowing down. A voice echoed through the train: “We will be arriving at Hogwarts in five minutes. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken up to the school separately.”

I locked my trunk, then me and Ron stuffed the rest of the food in our pockets and walked out to the corridor with the rest of the students. They all looked so tall, like giants. When the train stopped, everyone pushed their way onto the platform. The cold hit me to the bone.

Hagrid was calling out the first years to follow him, so me and Ron followed him along with the rest of our year down a steep, narrow path. It was so dark, there must’ve been thick trees on either side. No one said a word, though Neville sniffed once or twice.

“Yeh’ll get yer first sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,” Hagrid called over his shoulder, “jus’ round the bend.”

I had been waiting for this for over two months. I could finally feel safe and prepare for the Battle.

Everyone was impressed by the massive castle, me included. The narrow path opened suddenly on to the edge of a great black lake. Perched on top of a mountain was the castle with its many turrets and towers. We got into the boats that travel to the castle. I was with Ron, Neville, and Seamus. Seamus introduced himself to us briefly. As we passed under a curtain of ivy, entering a cave, we stopped at an underground harbour. Everyone clambered off the boats on to pebbles and rocks. Hagrid found Trevor and gave him back to Neville, who was joyfully surprised. The giant then directed us to a flight of stairs and a large oak door. He knocked four times.

I’m not ready.


	6. The Sorting Hat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're finally in Hogwarts

The door swung open at once. A tall, stern woman in emerald robes stood there. I wonder who she is.

“The firs’ years, McGonagall,” Hagrid said. Oh fuck, it’s McGonagall. My brain is so fucking stupid.

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.”

She pulled the door wide and led us into the Entrance Hall. I swear to God, it was the most massive room I ever saw. The walls were lit with flaming torches, the ceiling was too high to make out, and there were stairs facing them that led to upper floors. We followed McGonagall across the stone floor. There were drones of voices coming from behind the tallest doors in the room. McGonagall showed us into a small empty chamber off the hall. We were crowded in, standing closer together than we usually would have done.

McGonagall did her speech on the houses and the Sorting Ceremony. My brain must’ve been on autopilot because I didn’t even listen. It was a little long, but right after, she left for unknown reasons. No one spoke at all, only when a few ghosts flew in through a wall. Some people behind me screamed. I gasped myself. Things surprise me every day.

“Move along now,” said a sharp voice. “The Sorting Ceremony’s about to start.”

Professor McGonagall had returned. She led us first-years out of the chamber, back into the hall, and through the tall double doors into the Great Hall. It was lit with a thousand, thousand floating candles. The tables where the other students were at were laid with golden plates and goblets. At the front of the Hall, was another long table where the teachers were sitting. We stopped in front of that table. Hermione whispered something about the ceiling being enchanted to look like the sky outside; and McGonagall placed a stool in front of us, then the Sorting Hat on top of it. A twitch at the brim and a rip appeared, like a mouth. And then it spoke.

_“Oh, you may not think I’m pretty_

_But don’t judge on what you see,_

_I’ll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I am the Hogwarts Sorting Hat,_

_And I can cap them all._

_There’s nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can’t see,_

_So, try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindor apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff_

_Where they are just and loyal_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you’ve a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin,_

_Where you’ll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folks use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So, put me on! Don’t be afraid!_

_And don’t get in a flap!_

_You’re in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I am a Thinking Cap!”_

The entire Hall erupted into applause as the Hat finished its rhyme (it’s totally a rhyme, not a song). Then it went still again.

“So, we just have to try on the hat,” Ron whispered. “I’ll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll.” I smiled weakly. I didn’t want to sit in front of everyone, while the Hat was going to announce my house. I didn’t figure what house I was supposed to be in to sort everything out yet. I couldn’t, of course, be in Slytherin. That’ll fuck everything up. Hufflepuff wasn’t really suited for me anyway. So, it was between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. If I was in Ravenclaw, then I wouldn’t get the Sword of Gryffindor. Fuck, the Sword of Gryffindor. Would it choose me if I was in Ravenclaw? Would I be distanced from Ron, Hermione, and Draco if I was in Ravenclaw? They were important. The house I choose is the most important.

In Ravenclaw, there would be copious amounts of knowledge, and I could do things my way, on my own. But in Gryffindor, I would be with Ron and Hermione, become the Harry in book 7, and do things as the books were, just a little faster.

To secure my friendships, I would have to be in Gryffindor. I don’t know anyone in Ravenclaw except for Luna, and Cho. There were some others in the back of my mind, but I don’t know their names.

McGonagall started calling out names, and those people attached to those names went up to the stool to be sorted. All the same in the original book. It’s all good. I will rely on the books to know what happens, yet making my own path.

Hermione in Gryffindor (Ron groaned at that), Neville in Gryffindor, Draco in Slytherin. Then McGonagall called out my name. Whispers broke out like little fires as I walked to the Sorting Hat. The last thing I saw before the Hat drooped over my eyes were people craning to get a good look at me.

“Hmm,” said a small voice in my ear. “Difficult-”

“Look, I don’t have long, but I’m from the future. I’m not Harry Potter. Don’t put me in Slytherin because you’re just seeing that Horcrux of Voldemort. Put me in Gryffindor so I can save everyone before it’s too late,” I thought.

“From the future? Ah, yes of course. It makes sense now what I see in your mind. Pain, and loss, am I correct? And that hint of Slytherin I’m seeing in you is a Horcrux? If you insist then, you better be GRYFFINDOR.” The hat shouted out the last word, and the furthest left table erupted into cheers. I took off the hat and walked over to the Gryffindor table, my robes changing into those Gryffindor robes you see in the Harry Potter movies. Over at the Slytherin table, Draco looked a little disappointed, but quickly dismissed it. Am I able to patch things up with him? Maybe after Potions class.

After all first years were sorted (Ron became a Gryffindor and came over to sit with me and the Weasley twins), and after Dumbledore said those weird four words: _Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!_ , the dishes were now piled with food of every type. Plates of vegetables, roast chicken, beef, pork chops, sausages, bacon and steak, roast potatoes, boiled potatoes, chips, Yorkshire puddings, gravy, ketchup, and weirdly enough, mint humbugs. I hadn’t eaten properly since I arrived in this world, so I piled my own plate high with all sorts of food. I took several mint humbugs and wrapped them in a napkin (yes, there are napkins). Percy and Hermione were sitting next to each other and discussing classes.

“This does look good,” said the ghost in ruff sadly, watching me cut up my steak.

“Can’t you-?”

“I haven’t eaten in nearly four hundred years,” said the ghost. “I don’t need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don’t think I introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower.”

“I know who you are,” Ron said suddenly. “My brothers told me about you – you’re Nearly Headless Nick!”

“I would prefer you call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy –” he began before Seamus interrupted.

“Nearly Headless? How you be nearly headless?”

“Like this,” Nick said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell on his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Whoever tried to behead him did an incredibly poor job. Looking pleased at the stunned faces on our faces, Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, “So – new Gryffindors! I hope you’re going to help us win the House Championship this year? Gryffindor have never gone so long without winning. Slytherin have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron’s almost unbearable – he’s the Slytherin ghost.”

I looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost with silver blood. He was right next to Draco, who didn’t look pleased with the seating arrangements. I wouldn’t too.

“How did he get covered in blood?” Seamus asked with great interest.

“I never asked,” Nick said delicately.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plate, leaving them as sparkling as before. Do the house-elves eat the leftovers? I hope they get fed. A moment later, the puddings appeared. Blocks of ice-cream in every flavour imaginable, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs, jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, jelly, rice pudding…

As I helped myself to some mint chocolate ice cream, the talk turned to families. Seamus and Neville talked about their funny stories, Percy and Hermione were still talking about classes. I didn’t engage in the conversation because I began to feel warm and sleepy. I looked over at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking heavily, McGonagall was talking to Dumbledore, and Quirrell was talking to a greasy haired teacher. Snape, Snape, Severus Snape – _Dumbledore…_ Haha, that vid never gets old. Shit, I need to close my mind. Don’t look into Snape’s eyes.

It happened quickly. Snape looked past Quirrell’s turban right at me – and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on my forehead. I had to hide my pain from everyone. I couldn’t let anyone know. No one should know. Not this early. I’ve got to sketch up a plan of this year. Good thing I mentioned Nicholas Flamel to Ron. He’ll probably remember that.

At last, the puddings too disappeared, and Dumbledore got to his feet. The Hall fell silent.

“Ahem – just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give to you. First year students should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all students. And a few older students would do well to remember that as well.”

His twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of Fred and George.

“I have also been asked by Filch, the caretaker, to remind you that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right is out of bounds to everyone who doesn’t wish to die a very painful death. And now, bedtime. Off you trot.”

Hogwarts doesn’t have a song. It only appears in the first book, and it’s the most stupid song I’ve ever read.

Percy and the other Gryffindor Prefects led us up to the Gryffindor Tower. Draco might have called out my name, but by the time I turned my head, the Slytherin first-years were gone, heading down to the Slytherin common room. We encountered Peeves while navigating Hogwarts, so… that was a fun experience. Yay…

About 10 minutes later, we reached the Gryffindor Tower, and went up to our dormitories. I shared the top most dorm with Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville. Our luggage was already by our four-poster beds. By each bed, there was a bedside table with three drawers. There were four windows looking out onto the grounds. I had one of the corner-side beds.

Too tired to talk much, we got changed into our pyjamas, and slipped under our bedsheets. It felt like silk, and I succumbed to sleep almost immediately. I had the strangest dream. I was wearing Quirrell’s turban, which kept telling me to change to Slytherin. I insisted on no because that wasn’t me. You’re seeing the Horcrux. Can’t you hear me?! It kept getting heavier and heavier – and there was Malfoy, laughing. Stop laughing, we’re supposed to be friends, I want to be friends. Malfoy then turned into Snape who had a high-cold laugh. It hurt so much; I want it to stop. Please…


	7. The Potions Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OC-Harry writes in his diary of the events happening in his first week at Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, but this is a short chapter because I wanted to write all of OC-Harry's thoughts and a diary was the best way to do it

Dear Diary,

This was my first week at Hogwarts, and most of my teachers are nice. McGonagall is strict like the books, she turned into a cat in our first lesson and everyone applauded, and for the L.O. we were practicing turning matches into needles - the only person other than Hermione that successfully do it was me, and McGonagall gave us a rare smile which was warming; Flitwick almost fell off his stack of books behind his desk when he reached my name in the register; Binns is a literal ghost – how do we have a ghost as a teacher??, oh, and History of Magic is actually interesting, I don’t know what Harry was complaining about, I like learning about goblin riots, ancient sorcerers, and weird names; Astronomy is by far my favourite, we are learning about planets and stars and constellations with Professor Sinistra, and I am doing well, our classes are at midnight every Wednesday; Herbology with Professor Sprout is alright, Neville looked a little enthusiastic about it, setting up a future career in it - god, I hope he isn’t deterred from it in the future. This is all I have to say about Herbology; I’m not really interested in it, but it is a big plot point next year.

Potions is the literal fucking worst. Snape interrogated me with the questions, and even though I answered correctly, he took off a point off for my “cheek”. What’s that supposed to mean, you twat? I proved myself to you. You don’t even know me yet, and you already assume I’m like James. Well I’m not, and I don’t care if you say he was a bully – those memories we see only show a small fraction of what James was really like. Yes, he may have been a bit of a bully, but until I see a bunch of memories from a bunch of different people from his year that show James being a bully, then I’ll change my mind. And you had to go and bully poor Neville, didn’t you? His parents were _fucking tortured_ and you had the guts to demean him. You know what happened to his parents. Why do you have to hold a grudge against an eleven-year-old who has already seen too much in the world?!

I had a little chat with Draco today before Potions to amend things and see if we could patch things up only if he agrees to apologise to Ron before the end of the year. We are now working together in secret. I spoke to him about wanting to meet up in the Room of Requirement on the seventh floor, and we met tonight. He came begrudgingly though. I told him my circumstances, and he eased up a bit. I threatened him with a hex if he ever told anyone about it, as no one was supposed to know. he did look shocked though, and very confused at the ordeal.

We are now pretending to be enemies in public, but are helping each other with homework, and learning defence spells to fight against Voldy in secret. We plan to meet up in the Room of Requirement every Saturday after breakfast for a few hours. Draco questioned me about knowing about it, and I said i read it in a book. He didn’t say any more questions because he knew which book I was referring to.

I have no idea how I managed to turn Draco around, but I think a month pondering on my words from that day in Diagon Alley took a toll on him. He still says some pure-blood supremacy shit, though, so, it might take a while before he gets out of that mentality. Imagine me, friends with the child of a Death Eater?

Me and Ron went to Hagrid today at three. We met Fang and had some rock cakes. Fang kept bounding around the hut, drooling everywhere, so I had to use the cleaning charm when Ron and I left half an hour later. Ron was not particularly fond of Fang and voiced his complaints as we headed back up to our dorm room. We didn’t say anything about the cakes as to not hurt Hagrid’s feelings. We were talking about school and stuff when I noticed a piece of paper on the table. It was a newspaper clipping of the Gringotts break-in. I turned the conversation to that, but Hagrid just grunted and didn’t meet my eyes. Of course, Quirrell would’ve done it after we had collected the Philosopher’s Stone.

The stairs are so fucking confusing. How do we not have a map? I was almost late for Transfiguration and walking up and down those stairs are so exhausting. This probably explains why there aren’t really any sport classes, except for Flying, but that’s only for first years. There are also reserve teams for Quidditch, which makes a lot more sense now that I think about it. And it felt weird using a pen for class, so I stuck with one of my quills. Checked out some higher-level spell books for practice. So far, I have mastered:

  * _Scourgify_
  * _Alohomora_
  * _Wingardium Leviosa_
  * _Expelliarmus_
  * _Accio_
  * _Reparo_



Me and Draco are planning on doing full-on one-on-one defence lessons in the Room Of Requirement because Quirrell is fucking useless. Everyone else in the dorm was asleep when I got back from the ROR, and I am using a pen and notebook to write this because I don’t want to wake anyone.

I miss WIFI. I miss the twenty-first century. Thank fuck there's toilets, showers, and indoor plumbing.


	8. Draco's Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all in the title. you get the jest. Welcome to the first and only flying lesson of the year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I decided to go with Draco's perspective because I thought it'd be interesting, and i had a lot of fun writing this chapter.

Over the seven years at Hogwarts, Draco never expected to be so invested in a platonic relationship as the one with Harry Potter. He never even understood how they were friends with the first place. Perhaps, it was that first meeting in Madam Malkins’ shop that started it all. Or maybe, it was when they were in the Room Of Requirement when Harry indulged in him a deep secret that shook him to his core. Was it possible that someone from the future could possess the most famous boy in the twentieth century?

This person knew of things to come and knew things Draco thought his family had kept hidden. The name of their house elf, Dobby; who they were related to. Andromeda Tonks, Bellatrix Lestrange, Sirius Black. Harry shivered with fear when talking about Aunt Bellatrix, and the future. He knew what was to come, and Draco wanted to know too. Looking into the future was important, and he craved that. Would the Dark Lord rise again? Would Slytherins finally get the respect from the other houses? ‘Cause, the other houses were absolute pricks. The Weasley twins even hissed at him as he walked over to the Slytherin table. How was it his fault Slytherin had the most Dark wizards? It was probably the collective hate from three-quarters of the school that led many Slytherins down the Dark route. But how could a Gryffindor be friends with a Slytherin?

Draco tried to press Harry further on what he knew about his relatives, especially Sirius Black; but Harry kept shaking his head and changing the conversation to something else. He mentioned something about keeping the “plot-line” intact and by the book, as well as keeping the future “in flux”. Now, Draco had no idea what any of that meant, but it was probably just some Muggle shtick.

He could see it in his eyes. Pain, and loss, and when he spoke of the future, there was an omen aura and tone to it. A war. Death. The final victory, but Draco couldn’t place who. What was it like, in the future? In Harry’s old life? Was he loved? Neglected? Abandoned? Had a big family like those blood traitors, the Weasleys? Or a small one, like his own? Shouldn’t use blood traitor around Harry, he’s friends with the youngest Weasley child, and he had to maintain an alliance with Harry. He liked the Room Of Requirement, and his first proper Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. Quirrell was a bumbling fool. And he hoped to learn the Dark Arts in the future. Should’ve gone to Durmstrang for that.

On the Monday of their second week of term, there was a piece of parchment attached to the noticeboard in the Slytherin common room. For the first years. They were to be having Flying lessons with Gryffindors on Thursdays after breakfast. Time to show his flying skills off. Harry might make a fool of himself, so he had to laugh at him for the sake of keeping up appearances. Bet Weasley and that Granger girl would be rubbish. Bet that Longbottom kid would fall off his broom, he was so clumsy and forgetful. He’d have a right laugh about that with Vincent, Greg, and Blaise.

At breakfast, he glanced over at the Gryffindor table as he walked over to his own table, and Harry looked a little sick. Pale, even. Making little fidgety motions like drumming his fingers on the edge of the table, clenched teeth. Weasley was talking to him, trying to calm him down, talking about beating him, showing _those_ Slytherins what’s good for them. It just made Harry even more sick and pale. Longbottom got a Remembrall in the mail. Useless device, really. Only told you that you forgot something, and not what. Pathetic.

On his way to his first flying lesson with the other Slytherins, Theo and Blaise were bragging about deserving a spot on the Slytherin Quidditch team more than the older students, but let’s be real here, they wouldn’t even make the reserve team. Their class was on a smooth lawn on the grounds, with twenty-two broomsticks laid out in two rows. They were very battered, and Draco was worried he’d get a splinter. Shortly after, the Gryffindors arrived on to the scene, and Madam Hooch, a grey-haired lady with silver eyes and a snitch-shaped whistle around her neck, told them to get beside a broomstick. Draco purposefully chose one near Harry, but as the Gryffindors and Slytherins became distinctly even more different by only choosing a broomstick on the side where most of their fellow house mates were, so he ended up facing Harry, Weasley, and Granger. What was it with Granger?

“Stick out your right hand over your broomstick,” said Madam Hooch at the front, “and say “UP!”.”

“UP!” everyone shouted.

Only a few broomsticks shot up, and that included Harry and Weasley. Weasley looked… how could he put this?... he had a victorious look on his face. Harry looked positively furious and kept muttering something about an unnecessary plot device and falling. _Falling, falling. Always falling. Never stop, never cease. No safety… only the Vast. No handles… no walls… nothing. Just empty and falling, falling forever._ Haha, not creepy in the slightest.

His broomstick just rolled around a little, Greg’s and Vincent’s broomsticks didn’t move, but Blaise’s did shoot up on the first try. Lucky son of a bitch. Madam Hooch got everyone who still didn’t have their broomsticks in their hands to say “UP!” multiple times before they did. She then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off and told Draco he had been doing it wrong for years. The nerve of that woman. His father would hear about this. Weasley laughed out loud at the situation and Harry let out a little chuckle.

“Now, when I blow on my whistle, you kick off the ground,” said Madam Hooch. “Keep your brooms steady and fly a few feet, then come straight down by leaning forwards slightly. One my whistle – three – two –”

But Longbottom seemed to have other ideas. Most likely out of fear and of being left behind, he kicked off the ground and high up into the air.

“Come back boy,” she shouted. Longbottom was still continuously flying twelve feet – twenty feet, before plummeting back down to the earth with a loud crunch. His broomstick flew lazily higher and over to the Forbidden Forest. She turned to bend over Longbottom, her face white as a sheet.

“Broken wrist,” he heard her mutter. “Come on boy – it’s alright, up you get.”

She turned to the rest of the class.

“None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital! You will leave those brooms where they are, or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can say “Quidditch”. Come on dear.”

Longbottom, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

This was ridiculous that he did it. There was nothing scary about flying a broomstick. When Longbottom and Madam Hooch were out of earshot, he burst into laughter, out of nervousness mostly, but he hoped no one picked up on it.

“Did, did you see his face, that great lump?” The other Slytherins joined in the laughter.

“Oh, shut up, Malfoy,” snapped the Gryffindor Patil.

“Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?” said Pansy. “Never thought _you’d_ like fat little cry-babies, Patil.”

“Look,” Draco said, noticing a glass red ball lying the grass. The Remembrall. “It’s that stupid thing Longbottom’s gran sent him.” It glittered in the sun as he held it up.

“Oi Malfoy. Give that here,” yelled Harry. Ooh, we’re going full enemy, are we?

“Oh yeah. Or what?” he yelled back. “I think I might leave it somewhere where Longbottom can retrieve it – perhaps, a tree.” Everyone became suddenly quiet.

“Just give it here.” But Draco had already leapt on his broomstick impulsively and took off. He could fly well – hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak, when he called out, “Come and get it, Potter.”

But Harry didn’t pick up his broom. Instead he raised his wand and shouted, “ _Accio_ , Neville’s Remembrall.” And the small ball shot out of Draco’s hand and straight towards Harry. He did that Summoning Charm well, but for keepsakes, he had to act both surprised and angry while flying back down.

“What the hell was that for, Potter?” he asked sharply, as his feet hit the ground. “How could you do that? We aren’t supposed to learn that Charm until fourth year.”

“Yeah, yeah. Shut up leaf-muncher.” Harry snapped back. What the hell is a leaf-muncher? It’s definitely a joke because Granger laughed. What strange Muggle jokes.

Before he or the other Slytherins could retort against Potter, Madam Hooch appeared out of nowhere, like she Apparated. She couldn’t though, you couldn’t Apparate inside of Hogwarts.

“Good Summoning Charm, Potter,” she said with a small smile on her face. “Professor Flitwick could take a leaf out of your book. 10 points to Gryffindor.”

“Thank you, Madam Hooch,” Harry replied.

He needed to uphold his future reputation. To maintain a secret relationship with Potter. There was only one thing for it. Suggest a duel, perhaps. Yes, that made the most sense. Show everyone he hated Harry, while also apologising to him in private. But Harry was way more powerful than he was, so there could be a way he could chicken out. Fake it to you make it, as they say. So, suggest a fake duel, but don’t say anything about the nefarious deeds until after it’s done. Now, where? The Trophy Room? He could make a clutter, get him in trouble. Send Filch. Weasley would be his second, so it would look set up. Perfection.

At breakfast the next day, he sauntered over to the Gryffindor table. “Potter. I want to speak with you.” Harry raised his eyebrows, making Draco think he already knew. But of course, he is from the future.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Weasley said in between devouring some toast.

“Since you oh so humiliated me in Flying class yesterday, I have decided a proposal to decide whether or not you’re really as powerful as you were yesterday or if it’s fake. So, a duel. Tonight, at midnight in the Trophy Room. Don’t be late, or are you a coward?”

“Yeah, if you want. You know I’m more powerful than you anyway, so it’ll be a short duel.” Harry replied.

“And I’ll be his second,” Weasley added.

“One am. ROR,” Draco said cryptically. Weasley looked confused, and so did Harry, but he knew. He saw it in his eyes.

As he left the table, he heard Weasley ask Harry if he knew what I meant, but he said no, then they turned their conversation to the duel, with, I think, Granger interjecting at the last second.

Draco would go to the Room Of Requirement at eleven thirty at night, do some reading, practice some first-year spells.

The cold air of the dungeons hit him hard as he stepped out of his warm common room. Maybe it was something in the air because he felt so much better in the corridor. He knew his way from the Slytherin common room to the Room Of Requirement easily, but he had to be wary. Make sure he wasn’t seen by any snoopy paintings or teacher. He had seen his father did a Disillusionment Charm a few times, so he tried to remember the spell, and then practiced it. He was right the first time. And it was good. Well, his body looked more like a painting than invisible, but he just had to close his eyes whenever a teacher walked past, but it’ll pass. It was a really complicated spell as well, so he did a good job. He deserved a pat on the back.

With one or two extremely close encounters with ghosts and Peeves, he finally got to the Room Of Requirement at a quarter to midnight. Bit late, but he was fine. He stepped into the familiar room he saw the last time he was there. And he waited. He gave a hint to Filch that someone would be in the Trophy Room at half-past midnight, so that would give Harry a half-hour head-start.

The clock ticked and ticked and ticked. Midnight. Quarter past. Half past. One am. A loud crash bombarded into the ROR. Harry sprinted into the room, sweating, fear swept across his face.

“You will not believe what I found.”


	9. Hallowe'en

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Troll!! Troll - in the dungeons!! Thought you ought to know...

“You found a goddamn Cerberus?!” Draco yelled, throwing himself on his feet, and sprinting to me.

“I know, I know!! And it was really difficult getting here,” I panted. “I almost came across Peeves and the Bloody Baron on my way here. And Snape. Can you believe it?”

“Yeah, but what the actual fuck is a Cerberus doing in a school? And why was it on that trapdoor?” Draco said, waving his arms around in surprise and confusion.

“I told you. it’s protecting this thing that You-Know-Who wants. Can’t tell you, otherwise you might tell your father. And I don’t trust your father.”

“That’s my father you’re talking smack about. Bet you told Weasley and Granger. Makes sense ‘cause they’re Gryffindors.”

“I haven’t told anyone anything yet. I keep telling you. The future is in flux. The moment I tell you or anyone about the future, it’s set in stone. A fixed point in time. Unchangeable. Saw it in a show once… or twice.”

Draco pondered on the last few words I spoke before saying: “I think I got it. Like that Muggle myth. Perseus and Medusa. One moment you’re alive and moving, but the next, when you’re looking at Medusa’s hair, you’re set in stone, forever unmoveable.”

“You’ve heard of Medusa?”

“Mother taught me one or two Muggle legends. She found it interesting and thought I would find it so too. She was right.”

“I think we should sit down, Malfoy.”

“Too right, _Potter_.”

I rolled my eyes. We sat down on some comfy armchairs by the fire. It was nice to sit down after a night of running. Still can’t believe Neville tripped. Made a right old mess in the Trophy Room, and I had to clear up everything because I was the only one who had mastered the Levitating Charm. Then we heard Filch skulking about and accidently headed for the right-hand corridor on the third floor. Found Fluffy. Hermione noticed the trapdoor. After that, Ron, Hermione, and Neville wanted to go back to the common room, but since I had to be in the Room Of Requirement soon, I told them I needed to go to the bathroom, alone. Took me around ten minutes to shake them off and finally head to the seventh floor.

I’m so exhausted. I think Draco noticed this, so he began to complain about the school, Dumbledore, anything that was on his mind to fill the air. We both stared at the fire until we fell asleep. It had been a long night.

The bell tolled at seven am the next day. It echoed throughout the castle, and promptly woke me up. My surroundings were blurry and dark. I fumbled around for my glasses and found them on a soft carpeted floor. They were a bit twisted, so I magic-fixed them. I was laying on an armchair, with Draco still asleep on the other one. The fire had since died down, leaving burnt logs in the fireplace. He looked so innocent just sleeping there, so naïve, so kind. Best wake him up now. It’s a Friday, and we have classes and breakfast to go to.

“Hey, hey. Wake up, we’ve got breakfast in fifteen minutes,” I nudged his arm with my wand.

“Huh, wha’s happening?” Draco drowsily said, his hair ruffled, and his eyes were half-wake.

“We have breakfast in fifteen minutes. Either you or I can go down to the Great Hall. But not both. Now, this room can conjure up food. Don’t ask. So, we’ll flip a coin to see. If we head into the Great Hall together, it’ll be suspicious. We both didn’t go back to our common rooms, so people might start to talk.”

“Oh, make sense. I have a Knut here, so… that’s convenient. I’ll take tails.” Draco pulled out a bronze coin and flipped it. “It’s heads. You go down. I’ll head down to Transfiguration soon.”

“Aight, see yah in Potions.”

Thankfully I was already dressed and put some deodorant on before heading out of the Room Of Requirement. The seventh floor was empty, so I slid quietly down to the Great Hall. There were a few dozen people having breakfast, including Ron and Hermione, but they were sitting apart, I think it was because of what happened last night. I waved at them, though only Ron waving back. I gotta patch up my relationship with Hermione. There was toast, eggs, bacon, cereal and milk, bowls of fruit, jugs with juice and water in them, baked beans, all sorts of breakfast foods. I grabbed some toast, bacon, and a cup of water as I sat down next to Ron.

“Where were you this morning?” he asked in between mouthfuls of cereal. “You can’t’ve spent all your time in the toilets.”

“Well, I did come back up to our dorm, but I had to go back ‘bout an hour ago. Drank a lot yesterday.”

“Still can’t believe Malfoy would trick us. Bet he doesn’t know any good spells either. And selling us to Filch. We could’ve been in even more trouble.”

“He’s such a twat. Look, he can’t even show his face now. Where do you think he’s gone?”

“Dunno. But he’ll be pissed when he sees us in Potions.”

“Oh, yeah, we’ll have a right laugh about that.” I wanted to tell Ron about the Philosopher’s Stone, but it might’ve been too early in the book. Draco didn’t even look at us during the length of our Potions class, so Ron took that as being shamed and disappointed we weren’t expelled. I don’t know what would happen now I’m not doing Quidditch. How would this affect the plot? Would the new Seeker be good? Would Gryffindor win the Quidditch House Cup this year?

Maybe it was the secret meetings with Draco, or all the homework I was getting, but soon enough, it had been two months since I had arrived at Hogwarts. I destroyed my original list of what to do because I didn’t think it necessary to keep it and I wanted to practice _Incendio_. I got bored. I’ll write a new one soon. Hogwarts felt like my home than Privet Drive or my old home. My lessons were becoming more interesting now that everyone had mastered the basics. On Hallowe’en morning, I woke up to the smell of baking food wafting through the corridors. Even better, Flitwick announced during Charms we were going to practice _Wingardium Leviosa_. He grouped us into pairs to practice it. I was with Seamus (shame, I could’ve been paired with Neville, he would need a partner like me), and Ron was partnered with Hermione. Neither Ron nor Hermione looked too pleased about this, but they didn’t look angry. Well, they weren’t on particularly good terms since the whole Cerberus incident when Hermione said that we could’ve gotten into trouble and gotten expelled, as well as not wanting to admit that night ever happened. Ron disagreed.

“Now, don’t forget the nice wrist movement we’ve been practicing,” Flitwick squeaked, perched on top of his stack of books as usual. “Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too – never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said ‘s’ instead of ‘f’ and found himself with a buffalo on his chest.”

I tried to not my efforts into the spell, but every time, I managed to get it flying. Flitwick gave me five points for doing it correctly the first time. Hermione did _not_ pleased. Seamus, on the other hand, set the bloody feather we were using on fire. I had to set it out with my hat and request a new feather.

Ron, at the next table, wasn’t having much more luck.

“ _Wingardium Leviosa!_ ” he shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill.

“You’re saying it wrong,” Hermione snapped. “It’s _Win_ -gar- _dium Levi_ -o- _sa_ , make the ‘gar’ nice and long.”

“Fine. You do it if you’re so smart,” Ron snarled.

Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand and said, “ _Wingardium Leviosa._ ”

Their feather rose off the table and hovered about four feet above their heads.

“Oh, well done!” Flitwick cried, clapping for the second time (reminder, first time was for me). “Everyone see here, Miss Granger’s the second student to have done it.”

Hermione did look proud of herself as they left the classroom soon after. Ron had developed a very bad temper, though.

“No wonder no one can stand her,” he said as we walked through a crowded corridor. “She’s a nightmare, honestly. Thank Merlin, you managed to achieve that spell before she did, otherwise she would’ve looked smugger and more arrogant.”

Someone bumped into me as they hurried past me. It was Hermione. The glimpse on her face, though. Tear-struck and sadder than the stars.

“Ron, I think you should keep your voice down next time. She heard you.”

“So?” Ron said, but he did look a bit uncomfortable. “She must’ve noticed she’s got no friends.”

“Ron! Imagine you found out that magic was real around your 11th birthday. You’re so excited and can’t wait to make proper friends for once, because everyone at your Muggle school always thought you were weird and never wanted to be friends with you. Then you get to Hogwarts and you’ve read every book on the list because you think you had to memorise everything just to be good as everyone else. Then some boy who’s lived in this world their entire life insults you because of something you don’t know how to control and learn. Imagine a pureblood being threatened by a Muggleborn just because they have a natural talent for magic.”

“Well… well… I don’t know how you can take her side. And I don’t feel threatened. I don’t have good coordination. The movements don’t register properly. But still, you saw her face-”

“Because she managed to do a spell correctly faster than everyone else. She’s just trying too hard to prove herself.”

“I don’t want a fight right now. Not in this corridor. Come on, we’ve got class, then the Hallowe’en feast. Nothing should ruin this day.”

“Ugh, fine. But still, I’m a little worried.”

“There’s nothing to be worried about.”

Hermione didn’t turn up for the next class and wasn’t seen all afternoon. I tried to go to the girls’ bathroom where Hermione was multiple times, but that hallway always had several people in it. I had to wait until it was empty before I could fetch her before the troll came. At the Hallowe’en feast, Ron and I overheard Parvati telling Lavender (definitely black, not whoever played her in the later movies – not shitting on the actress playing her in the later films, she was great, I just think whoever decided to cast her was a twat) Hermione was crying in a girls’ bathroom and wanted to be left alone. Ron still looked more awkward at this, but a moment later they had entered the Great Hall, where the Hallowe’en decorations pushed Hermione to the back of Ron’s mind. Not mine. I know what happens. I spent late nights reading _The Philosopher’s Stone_ , memorising every word.

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and the ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in small black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins flicker. Fifteen minutes later, and everyone (‘cept Hermione) had tucked into a grand old Hallowe’en feast. I was tucking into a nice jacket potato with baked beans and cheese, when goddamnit, Quirrell runs into the Great Hall. “Troll! Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know.” And he sank to the floor in a dead faint.

Fuck you, I know you- god-fucking-shit, Snape’s at the teacher’s table, and you bloody well know he’s an Occlumens, so you better close your mind. Can’t let him find out. You can do this yourself, and with Draco. Useful ally. Is Snape listening?

There was an uproar. It took several fireworks exploding from the end of Dumbledore’s wand and using _Sonorus_ to bring silence.

“Prefects,” he rumbled, “lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately.”

Percy called for the first years to follow him and listen to his orders. We passed all sorts of people hurrying in different directions. As we passed through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs, I grabbed Ron’s arm. “Ron, we need to get Hermione. She doesn’t know about the troll. She’ll be in danger.”

Ron bit his lip.

“Alright,” he said, gratingly. “But Percy better not see us.”

Ducking down, we joined the Hufflepuffs going the other way, slipped down a deserted corridor and hurried off towards the girls’ toilets. We had just turned a corner when we heard rapid footsteps behind us.

“Percy,” hissed Ron, pulling me behind a large stone griffin. Peering around it, we saw Snape, not Percy. He crossed the corridor and disappeared from view.

“Do you think he’s going to the third floor?” I asked.

“How should I know?” Ron said, before holding up his hand. “Can you smell something?”

There was a foul stench in the air – a mixture of mouldy old socks and the secondary school boys’ toilets. A loud grunt and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet echoed in the corridor. Ron pointed to the end of it. There was something huge moving towards them. We shrank back in the shadows and watched as it emerged in a patch of moonlight. It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin a dull grey, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its bald head perched on top. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horned feet. The smell coming from it was horrible. It was holding a huge wooden club which dragged behind it as its arms were so long.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long heard, making up its puny mind, then slouched slowly in the room.

“Ron, that’s the girls’ bathroom!” I yelped, grabbing his arm, and running to the room.

“Oh no,” he gasped, his eyes widening. We skidded into the room where the troll was waving its club around, smashing anything that got in its way, with Hermione hiding near the door. I lurched for her arm and pulled her out.

“Hey, Hermione,” I said. “Ron, we need to distract it.”

Ron grabbed a bit of rubble and threw it at the troll’s head. “Oy, pea brain.”

It turned around and began to head for us. I tried to console Hermione, as Ron waved his wand and, quick on his thinking, yelled “ _Wingardium Leviosa_!”

The troll’s club lifted up and out of its hand, levitating right above its head before crashing down on it, knocking it out.

“Damn, Ron,” I said, surprisedly. “That was really good.”

“It was. Thank you, Ron. Thanks Harry,” Hermione said at last.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of us look up. I hadn’t really recognised how much of a noise we were making, but someone had heard the crashes. A moment later, McGonagall came bursting onto the scene, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper and leaned against a wall, clutching his heart. You’re clearly faking it. This is a lie. You- fuck, need to close off my mind. Fuck I just remembered something. I was supposed to turn down the goddamn duel by Malfoy but guess fucking what?! I had to go along with the plot because that’s what I do. Get everything over and done with. How could I forget that? I’m so stupid.

Snape bent over the troll. McGonagall looked angrier than I had ever seen her. “What on earth were you thinking of?” She said with a cold fury in her voice. “You’re lucky you weren’t killed. Why aren’t you in your dormitories?”

Hermione spoke up. “Please, Professor McGonagall – they were looking for me.”

“Miss Granger.”

“I wasn’t at the Hallowe’en feast. I was homesick and was in the bathroom today. I really miss my parents. I wasn’t made aware there was any troll, but if it wasn’t for Ron and Harry, I would be dead already.”

“Well, it’s going to be alright Miss Granger. The Christmas holidays are coming up and it’s optional to either stay at Hogwarts or go home for the holidays, if you want. It’s a lot to take in, I know. You’re safe now, don’t worry. Perhaps you could use an owl from the Owlery to send a letter to your parents. Maybe that’ll ease your homesickness,” McGonagall said softly. I myself felt way more relaxed and calmer. Good thing, Hermione came up with a (hopefully) half-truth. “Now, Mr Potter and Mr Weasley. You were lucky. Not many first years could take down a mountain troll. Five points to each of you. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go.”

We hurried out of the chamber and didn’t speak at all until we were two floors up. It was a real relief to be away from the stench of the troll.

“We should’ve gotten more than ten points,” Ron grumbled.

“Hey, at least we’re alright,” I said optimistically. “I think that was nice of Hermione to not tell on us, but what she said instead must have been half-truth. Being away from your parents for so long can be difficult.”

“Yeah. I miss my mum and dad. They’re great.”

We had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady (kind of insulting to those who aren’t as thin as rakes).

“Pig snout,” Ron said, and we entered. The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that was sent up. Hermione, however, was standing by the door, waiting for us. There was a small embarrassed pause. Then, none of us looking at each other, we all said _Thanks_ and hurried off to get plates and cups.

From that moment on, Hermione Granger became our friend. There are somethings you can’t share without ending up liking each other and knocking out a twelve-foot troll was one of them.


	10. The Room Of Requirement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to see Harry and Draco's Patronuses. And there's some weird dream in this chapter as well. And we get a little chat between Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid down at Hagrid's hut after the Quidditch match.

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around Hogwarts became icy grey and the lake had a chill to it and started to freeze over. Every morning, the ground was covered in a thin layer of frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch pitch, bundled up in a long mole-skin overcoat, wolf-fur gloves, and enormous dragonhide boots.

On Saturday, there would be the first Quidditch match of the season, with the new unknown Gryffindor Seeker. The match would be Gryffindor against Slytherin, but it clashed with my secret meetings with Draco. He refused to stand out in the cold for hours, and I had no interest in the sport, so we decided to boycott that match and practice our own shit in peace. Ron wanted me to watch it, but I had to insist on _no_ , because I was tired. It was a Saturday, and I wanted to rest.

Nevertheless, I brought out my copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ to read with Hermione and Ron during break in true Gryffindor spirit. How the hell are there seven hundred fouls in Quidditch? Why did America have to be weird and invent Quadpot? That such a waste of Quaffles. The homework we have is particularly interesting. I mean, it’s magic homework, of course I’m getting up half-hour before breakfast and staying up until midnight to do it. Really can’t understand why Ron complains about it though, but Hermione and I help him out a lot.

Saturday came, and I sneaked out of the Gryffindor Tower, carrying my school books, at around six am. Me and Draco agreed to meet at the Room Of Requirement at six thirty, have a sleep in, and stay there until lunch, which wasn’t until midday. Five and a half hours practicing spells and shit alone. Five and a half hours of just me and Draco.

So, what happened in Harry’s first Quidditch match? Oh right, Quirrell tries to knock him off his broom; Snape does a counter-curse; Hermione lights Snape on fire; Harry almost swallows the snitch.

OH GOD!! THE SNITCH HAS THE RESURRECTION STONE IN IT!! WHAT DID I DO?! I WON’T SURVIVE THE FINAL GODDAMN BATTLE IN THE FORBIDDEN FOREST!! HOW COULD I DISRUPT THE PLOT THIS BADLY?? I CAN’T FUCKING DIE!! NO WAIT! NEVILLE’S REMEMBRALL!! IT COULD BE NEVILLE’S REMEMBRALL! HE NEVER CAME BACK FOR IT!! THE RESURRECTION STONE COULD BE IN NEVILLE’S REMEMBRALL!! I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHERE IT IS!! DUMBLEDORE!! THIS IS GENIUS!! THIS IS CRAZY!!

And now back to the show.

I reached the ROR at six thirty, the same time someone else came around the corner. I ducked behind a suit of armour, before I saw a flash of white-blond hair. I sighed in relief as I stepped out of my hiding space to enter the Room Of Requirement. Draco didn’t see me hide and jumped when he saw me.

“Don’t scare me like that. Do you want this friendship to end?” he said. “Why is it secret, though? Why do we have to act like enemies to our friends and the houses?”

“Because something could go wrong if I told you, and if we made our friendship public. In Harry’s or my old future, we’re schoolboy enemies. We had a fierce rivalry going on because I turned down your offer to be your friend.”

“I would be that petty?”

“You were very petty in the old future. And had _strong_ opinions.”

“What strong opinions?! How dare you.”

“Ugh, I'll explain in a bit. Now, just let me get the Room Of Requirement open.”

I walked past the blank wall three times before two plain wooden doors appeared, and we entered together. They disappeared behind us as we became fully present in the room – for the sake of privacy, I guess. I dumped my books on a table and picked up a random spell book.

“Ok, in the original future, you hated Muggles, Muggleborns, and so-called blood traitors like the Weasleys. Original Harry despised you for this because he was friends with Hermione and Ron.”

“You know the history between wizards and Muggles. We were persecuted for what we are. And how the hell do Muggleborns even get magic? They don’t have magical parents!”

“There’s something called a magical gene for Christ’s sake! It’s recessive in Muggles, but dominant in wizards and witches.”

“What-is-a-gene?!”

“Godfuck, I need to teach you basic biology. And history. You know what, I’ll get a bunch of Muggle textbooks during the summer so you can survive in the Muggle world if necessary.”

“Like hell I’ll enter the Muggle world.”

“Fine. But for now, we need to learn a new spell. What spells did we learn so far this year?”

“The Levitating Charm, the Lighting Charm, and the Unlocking Charm.”

“Correct.” I waved the book around a little while pacing around the room. The fireplace was on the left side of the wall, there were shelves and shelves of books covering the back and right wall from the ground up to about six feet. The floor was a thick carpeted maroon, and there were comfortable plain armchairs surrounding a few square tables. This was a nice secret room.

“Today, we will be going full force and learn a fifth-year spell.”

“Isn’t that a bit much?” Draco asked, going to sit down in his armchair.

“Uh-huh, no. It is the Patronus Charm, and it could take a good few months before we fully master it, but I want to before Christmas,” I replied.

“The Patronus Charm?”

“It is like a guardian of sorts, which takes the form of your spirit animal. It is most useful against Dementors, the guards of Azkaban.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’m from the future you numpty. I know shit.”

“Right, so what’s the incantation?”

“It’s Expecto Patronum, and you have to think of your fondest memory while saying it too, otherwise you won’t be able to conjure a corporeal Patronus.”

“Got it.”

You know what my favourite memory was? It was arriving at Hogwarts for the first time. Confirming my beliefs that this world was real was the truest joy anyone could feel. There couldn’t be any good memories from my old past, or from Harry’s, so I stuck with that one. I wondered what Draco’s fondest memory was. We practiced against a bare wall next to the doors and kept saying the incantation. At first, we couldn’t do anything. I don’t think we were trying hard enough, or it was too hard of a spell. Original Harry couldn’t do it at first either, but he was up against a Boggart-Dementor. Draco began to look exhausted, meaning we had to take a little break.

“Why is this so difficult?” I said, stepping away from the wall.

“It’s a fifth-year spell, Harry. No shit it’s going to be hard,” Draco said, lowering his wand for the first time this meeting.

“Yeah. Imma try one more time before I rest.”

“Me too.”

We raised our wands against the wall, repeating the spell together. And for some fucking reason, we both managed to produce a silver wisp of smoke. Fucking FINALLY!! Draco was ecstatic, punching the air in triumph, and I did some stupid little dance. Don’t know why, kinda felt like it.

“Maybe one more time wouldn’t hurt,” Draco said happily. He seemed pretty proud of himself. Guess so too.

“Right. One more time. Three…Two…One… EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

We yelled at the same time, and yet again, our wands produced silver wisps, but they were more prominent. Almost there, almost there. I want to see my Patronus. I want to know Draco’s Patronus. I hate not knowing. “Maybe we should take a break and learn a simpler spell, Harry,” Draco said, leaning against the wall. “Maybe, the counter-spell?”

“Finite Incantatem? Perhaps, though I really want to see my Patronus. But for now, I want to take a little nap now.”

The clock on the wall displayed _7:30_. Four and a half hours left. It should be breakfast now, yet my eyes drooped, and I kept yawning. Dragging my feet over to my armchair by the lit fireplace, I promptly closed my eyes and waited for sleep to come. Everything was a blur afterward. I had a few dreams I vaguely remember. One stuck with me, however. I was in my bedroom – my old one, not Harry’s one. I hovered over my body in some sort of astral plane, the same type of shit you see in _Doctor Strange_. My physical body was asleep at my desk, surrounded by the Harry Potter books. But it didn’t look like I was breathing. The sunlight streamed through the cracks in my curtains, glittering as the dawn light. As the light hit my physical body, the skin was as pale as the sky. There’s one thing you should know… I’m very tanned, so seeing this worried me. I heard a click, and my bedroom door opened. My father entered, crying, speaking my name, praying to God I wasn’t dead. I know my father loved me. Out of my entire family, I know my father loved me. We were outcasts, but outcasts together. I couldn’t bear to see my dad in this state. I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t. Dad couldn’t see me, or hear me, as I tried to call out to him, to grab his arm, although my hand sunk right through. Dad stopped for a moment; I think he noticed the cold air of my hand, but quickly dismissed it. Look at me!! _Dad, listen to me!!_ I’m here, your daughter. I’m alive. I’m alive and well.

And fuck, I was immediately dragged out of the scene by an invisible hand and heard someone saying Harry’s name. _Harry… Hey, Harry…_ I opened my eyes and saw that Draco was shaking my arm, trying to get me to wake up.

“Hey, get up, you’ve been asleep for two hours for Merlin’s sake,” he said worriedly. He was sitting on one of the armrests, and his wand was sitting on the table with the spell books. “Look, I’ve been practicing Expecto Patronum like you did, and I think I got it. Couldn’t really practice Finite Incantatem because that takes two people.”

“Oh, oh, that’s great. I really want to see your spirit animal,” I replied groggily. Draco jumped off the armrest and grabbed his wand. I drew out my own wand for some practice. The moment we were ready and facing the blank wall, we yelled the incantation. It was pure luck that we did it. There wasn’t even a wisp beforehand. That sounds wrong. Gotta get my head in the game. Focus on our Patronuses. They were on all fours, roaring all the same. A shaggy mane, violent eyes. A lion and its lioness. The former Draco’s; the latter mine. We were connected. In more ways than one.

“Oh,” Draco exclaimed. “I did not expect that.”

“I didn’t either,” I said.

“Do you think because we have animals of the same species is that we’re really close, like siblings?”

“Er, yeah, yeah. Totally.” I tried saying that without a tone of sarcasm. You all know where I’m going with this. Lily and James. Tonks and Lupin. Hermione and Ron. All of them loved each other, and all of them had spirit animals so close in harmony with each other. I don’t love Draco. That’s absurd. I… I… No. I’m not one to take initiative. Forget it.

“That is awesome. Oh… My father will _not_ hear about this. I’m a Slytherin with a lion Patronus. Weird.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

 _9:30_. Attending Quidditch wasn’t mandatory, thank fuck. I think it’s time for breakfast. A plate of buttered toast appeared on the table in between the armchairs in front of the lit fireplace. Draco and I agreed to rest until lunch and read the spell books I brought up. Two and a half hours. We heard from a distance the Quidditch match going on. From _11:00_ to _11:30_ , it lasted. There many cheers, and at the end, the cheers were very audible. We talked every now and again, talking about all sorts of things. Draco was curious about my situation and would sometimes want to talk about that. I was compliant, just happy to talk about this stupid fucking thing. I spoke about my dream I had. I was confused and concerned for my own safety. I couldn’t be dead in the real world. What did it mean? Was it real?

At _11:45_ , we heard a thunder down at the ground floor of the castle. The Quidditch match ended, and everyone was coming in from the Quidditch Pitch. We decided to leave the Room Of Requirement and go our separate ways. I headed down to the Entrance Hall to meet Ron and Hermione. When we met up, they dragged me over to Hagrid’s hut to talk about the match.

“That new Gryffindor Seeker was amazing, Harry,” Ron said excitedly as we all had a cup of tea. “Her name is Erin Smith, and she won us the match. She’s a second year, and the one with the hair. And she’s a Muggleborn as well.”

“Yes, it was fun and all, but you didn’t notice anything strange didn’t you, Ron,” Hermione said huffily. “There was something strange about Snape. He was limping.”

“That’s Professor Snape to you,” Hagrid said, sipping on his tea. “And it’s probably nothin’, anyway. Yeh don’t need to worry about it.”

“Ron, maybe it was he tried to get past that three-headed dog on Hallowe’en? You saw him,” I said, deciding on trying to getting the plot moving after months of slow growth.

“Yeah, he probably tried to steal whatever it was guarding–”

“How’d yeh know about Fluffy?” Hagrid said, dropping his teacup.

“Its name is Fluffy?” Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Yeah – bought it off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las’ year – I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the-”

“Yeah?” I asked, not trying to sound too eager.

“No need to ask me anymore,” Hagrid said gruffly. “That’s top-secret, that is.”

“I don’t know…”

“Now you forget about that dog an’ you forget abou’ what it’s guarding. That’s between Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel-”

“Hey, didn’t you say something about Nicholas Flamel when we first met?” Ron said.

Hagrid look furious with himself as he ushered us out of his hut. We went to sit at the edge of the lake. It was peaceful.

“I think Nicholas Flamel and that thing the Cerberus is guarding is something to do with alchemy,” I said to Ron and Hermione.

“Yeah, you said Nicholas Flamel was that famous alchemist. Maybe we could find out something in a book,” Ron said. Smart move Ron.

“Well, we need to find out which book then,” Hermione replied, facing the two of us.


	11. The Mirror of Erised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OC-Harry has a fun Christmas and a talk with Dumbledore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wakanda forever

The air was becoming a lot colder. Snow had started to fall, and in mid-December, Hogwarts found itself several feet deep in the white snowflakes. The lake was frozen solid, and Fred and George got into trouble after they kept throwing snowballs at the back of Quirrell’s head. Like, they were throwing snowballs right into Voldy’s face (Voldemort is too long to say). The few owls that could make through the snowstorms had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid and Professor Kettleburn before flying off again. The holidays were drawing near, and I couldn’t wait to sign up to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas. Hermione had decided to go home for the holidays, but Ron had to stay because Molly and Arthur were visiting Charlie in Romania. I think they had to take Ginny with them because she wasn’t at Hogwarts yet, and they couldn’t leave a nine or ten-year-old at home for two solid weeks. I think Bill might visit too, so that’s nice.

The worst thing about winter in Scotland is the dungeons have become absolutely freezing, especially in Potions. We all had to huddle around our hot cauldrons. Draco resorted to taunting me being an orphan and Ron being poor. He was kinda pissed Gryffindor won the match, though.

“I do feel so sorry,” he said, one Potions lesson, “for those staying over the holidays because they’re not wanted at home.” He looked over at me as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Like, I don’t get why you demean those staying at Hogwarts for Christmas. A great feast, fantastic decorations, and a merry-go-lucky impression in the air. And you get to spend Christmas with your friends.

When we left the dungeon at the end of Potions, we found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet were sticking out the bottom and a loud puffing sound told us Hagrid was behind it.

“Hi, Hagrid, want any help?” Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.

“Nah, I’m alright. But thanks Ron.”

“Could you mind moving out the way?” Draco’s cold drawl came out from behind us. “Are you trying to earn some extra money Weasley? Hoping to become gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts I suppose – that hut of Hagrid’s must feel like a palace compared to what your family’s used to.”

Ron’s ears turned a bright red as he dived for Draco right as Snape appeared up the stairs.

“WEASLEY!”

Ron let go of Draco’s robes.

“He was provoked, Professor Snape,” Hagrid said, sticking his face out from behind the tree. “Malfoy was insultin’ his family.”

“Be as it may, fighting is still against Hogwarts rules Hagrid,” Snape said snappily. “Five points from Gryffindor Weasley and be grateful it isn’t more. Move along, all of you.”

Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle, pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and laughing.

“I’ll get him,” Ron said, grinding his teeth at Draco’s back. “One of these days, I’ll get him–”

“I hate them both,” I said. “Malfoy and Snape.”

“Come on, cheer up, it’s nearly Christmas,” Hagrid said. “Tell yeh what, come with me and see the Great Hall. Looks a treat.”

So, me, Ron, and Hermione followed him and the tree up to the Great Hall where McGonagall and Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.

“Ah, Hagrid, the last tree – can you put it in the far corner, would you?”

The Hall looked spectacular. Garlands of holly and mistletoe all hung around the walls, and no fewer than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, others glittering with hundreds of candles.

“How many days you got until yer holidays?” Hagrid asked.

“Just one,” Hermione said. “Oh, that reminds me – Harry, Ron, we’ve got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library.”

“Oh, you’re right,” Ron said, tearing his eyes away from Flitwick, who had golden baubles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the new tree.

“The library?” Hagrid said, following us out of the Hall. “Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren’t yeh?”

“Actually yeah,” I said, trying to make sure Hagrid didn’t find out us researching Flamel. We were getting very close – when I say we, I mean Ron and Hermione. I got a bit lazy and distracted.

“We’re trying to find out who Nicholas Flamel is,” Ron piped up. Fuck. “We really close.”

“You _what_?” Hagrid looked shocked. “Listen here – I’ve told yeh to stop it. It’s nothin’ to you what the dog’s guardin’.”

“We just want to know who he is though,” Hermione said.

“Yeah, we’ve only been through about a quarter of the books on alchemy, and his name doesn’t crop up anywhere,” I added.

“Well, I ain’t telling you anything,” Hagrid said flatly.

“I guess we have to find out for ourselves then,” said Ron, and we left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library.

I hadn’t bothered on searching through books to look for Flamel because I was busy trying to find my misplaced Chocolate Frog card – the very first one I got. At the library, while Ron and Hermione searched for old Nick, I hid myself away, reading up on advanced spells. It gave me time to think about that meeting with Draco – the one where we found out our Patronuses. I was getting worried; was it possible that we were just friends? I wanted it to be. We weren’t compatible at all. Maybe it was by chance we got Patronuses of the same species, and my real soulmate was still out there. I’ve seen Cedric around as well. He’s in the same year as Fred and George. Kinda cute and all. Silent. I don’t think he’s staying at Hogwarts for Christmas. Over three years, and he’s going to be dead. Oh, I really need to write up a new list; I’ve just been winging it nowadays, and I don’t know what to do.

Twenty minutes later and after a bunch of dead ends, we headed off to lunch.

“You will keep looking while I’m away, won’t you?” Hermione said. “And send me an owl if you find anything.”

“And you ask your parents if they know who Flamel is,” said Ron. “It’d be safe to ask them.”

“Very safe, as they’re both dentists.”

Once the holidays started, me and Ron were having too much of a good time to think about Flamel. I put on pause my search for the Chocolate Frog card. We had the dormitory to ourselves, and the common room was much emptier than usual. We sat by the fire, toasting food we could spear on a toasting fork and plotting ways to get Draco expelled, which were fun even if they didn’t work. Ron also started to teach me wizard chess. The pieces were alive, and very old and battered, so they were very trustworthy. I wasn’t very good at chess, but Ron and the pieces were calm and patient with me. I spent an hour or two every night finishing up on homework, so I didn’t have to worry about it later.

Now, when I arrived here, it was on my birthday, but it was wrong. My birthday is right before Christmas, so I decided to have a repeat birthday, to celebrate it properly. 21st of December. I decided to suggest a snowball fight with Ron, though I didn't mention why. It was pretty cool, and we used the Levitating Charm to chuck the snowballs at each other. On Christmas Day, I was excited for the food, the fun, and the presents. The Invisibility Cloak would arrive.

When I woke that morning, the first thing I noticed was a small pile of presents at the edge of my bed. “Happy Christmas,” Ron said sleepily, as I scrambled out of bed and pulled on my dressing gown.

“You too,” I replied. “We should open our presents now.”

“Great idea.”

I picked up the top present, the one with the brown wrapping paper. Scrawled upon it were the words _To Harry, From Hagrid_. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute the Hagrid whittled down himself. Very useful against the Cerberus. The second was very small and contained a note. It was a fifty pence coin from Petunia and Vernon. Ron was fascinated by it.

“That’s so weird,” he said. “What a shape. This is _money_?”

“You can keep it,” I said, laughing at how pleased Ron was. “What’s this one?” I picked up a soft, lumpy present.

“Oh, I know who sent that one,” Ron said, going a bit pink. “My mum. I wrote her a letter saying you didn’t expect any presents and, oh no –” he groaned, “she’s made you a Weasley jumper.”

I tore open the present and found a thick, hand-knitted jumper in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge. “Every year she makes us a jumper,” Ron said, unwrapping his own, “and mine’s always maroon. It’s my favourite colour, of course.”

“That’s very kind of her,” I said. “I like maroon as well.” I tried a bit of fudge, which was very tasty. My next present also contained sweets. Chocolate Frogs from Hermione. Maybe I could find a new card of Dumbledore here. The last one was very light. When I unwrapped it, I found a silvery, silky cloak. Ron gasped.

“Oh, I’ve heard of those,” he said in a hushed voice. “If that’s what I think it is – they’re really rare and valuable.”

“What is it?”

“It’s an Invisibility Cloak,” Ron said, a look of awe on his face. “Try it on.”

I threw it on around my shoulders, and Ron gave a yell.

“It is. Look down.”

I looked down at my feet. Well, not-feet. My whole body was invisible, my head suspended in mid-air. I twirled around, feeling the silk brush against my body like water. Rushing over to the mirror, I pulled the Cloak over my head, and I saw that I had no reflection.

“Look, there’s a note,” Ron pointed suddenly at the wrapping paper the Cloak was in. “A note fell out.”

On the letter, in narrow loopy writing, it said:

_Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it is returned to you._

_Use it well._

_A very merry Christmas to you._

_I’m aware of your current situation._

I didn’t read the last part out aloud, but I don’t think Ron was listening to a word I just said because he was admiring my Cloak. Before either of us could say anything, Fred and George bounded in wearing matching Weasley jumpers. Ron stuffed the Cloak under my bed before they could see it.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Hey look – Harry’s got a Weasley jumper too.”

“Harry’s is better than ours, though,” Fred said, holding up my jumper. “She obviously makes more of an effort if you’re not family.”

“Why haven’t you got yours on, Ron?” George demanded. “Come on. They’re lovely and warm.”

“One minute, George,” Ron said half-heartedly as he pulled it over his head.

“Good thing she put a letter on yours,” George observed. “Suppose she’ll think you’ll forget your name. But we’re not stupid. We know we’re called Gred and Forge.”

“What’s all this noise?”

Percy stuck his head around the door, looking all disapproving-like. He had clearly come halfway through unwrapping a present, as he too was carrying a lumpy jumper in his arms, which Fred seized.

“P for Prefect! Get it on, Percy, we’re all wearing ours, even Harry got one.”

“I – don’t – want –” he said thickly as the twins forced the jumper over his head, skewing his glasses.

“And you’re not sitting with the Prefects today, either” George said. “Christmas is a time for family.” The Weasley twins then frog-marched him down to the common room.

Christmas dinner was the best I had ever eaten. There were twenty roast turkeys (a hundred is absurd), mountains of roast and boiled potatoes, platters of buttered vegetables, silver gravy-boats filled with cranberry sauce, mint sauce, and gravy, and wizard Christmas crackers all along the tables. Out of the eight hundred students that attended Hogwarts, only a hundred had decided to stay. There were more teachers at Hogwarts, but I don’t think I ever saw them. There brief mentions of course when I overheard conversations while walking from one class to the next. During Christmas lunch, I pulled crackers with the Weasley brothers, and managed to get myself a new wizard chess set. I indulged greatly, pocketing food to eat on my midnight walks to find the Mirror of Erised. After lunch, I put my pocketed food under the blankets of my duvet and had a massive snowball fight with the Weasleys. Percy refused to play, so it was me and Ron against Fred and George. Fred and George won, but only by a close margin. I broke into the new chess set as we all sat round the fire. I don’t think I wouldn’t lost so badly if Percy hadn’t tried to help me but I let him help anyway. It was a nice gesture. After a tea of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone felt too full and sleepy to do too much of anything except watch Percy chase around after Fred and George after they had stolen his Prefect badge. I wanted to protest, to get Percy his badge, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open.

When we had all gone to bed, I pulled out the food, the Cloak, and _The Philosopher’s Stone_ , and went off, hidden, to track down the Mirror. I followed the directions of the original chapter where Harry had to hide from Snape when visiting the Library and slipped into that empty classroom. It didn’t take me very long to find it though. Roughly 10 minutes. Almost bumped into Filch but he couldn’t see me, so I was safe for now. The empty classroom was on the second floor, but it was locked. I used _Alohomora_ and _Silencio_ on the door and slid inside.

The room was old and dusty, with the tables and chairs all pushed to the side. The moonlight shined through the only two windows, and reflected off of a tall, clean mirror. I put the Cloak on the nearest table and walked over to it. I saw my reflection, as well as a beautiful red-headed woman and a tall raven-haired man. The woman’s eyes were just like mine: green as emeralds. The man’s hair was wild and untamed, like mine. James? Lily? Why you? Is the mirror showing Harry’s deepest desires… or mine?

I pulled out a bit of food before walking around the room. After putting _The Philosopher’s Stone_ next to the Cloak, I sat down on a chair, and let my mind start to wander. It was a while before I decided to head back up to the Gryffindor Tower again. I could sense Dumbledore’s presence, though he didn’t make himself known. The next day, I brought along Ron, to see what he could see. I didn’t though, and he saw himself as Quidditch Captain, holding the House cup, and shaking Dumbledore’s hand. I didn’t bring him along for the third night. That night, I would meet with Dumbledore.

“So back again, stranger?”

I turned around quickly. There, sitting on one of the desks, was Dumbledore.

“Professor Dumbledore! Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“Don’t worry. I see you, like many before you, have discovered the Mirror of Erised.”

“I noticed. On the frame, it says ‘I show you not your face, but your heart’s desire’ backward.”

“You are intelligent, I’ll give you that. I have been wondering these past few months about you. You are not who people think you are. You are something possessing a young boy’s body, presumably unwillingly. You, not Harry. You know the future, and I have advised Severus to not look too deep into your mind as to not set anything in motion.”

“Dumbledore, I didn’t ask for this. I’m not supposed to be alive yet. There are things in my future that could very much kill me. There are things in my future that will kill me. I’m not up for this at all. I’ve changed the future enough already-”

“Like your friendship with the Slytherin, Draco Malfoy. A secret I wish not to share publicly. Spending your Saturday mornings in the Room of Requirement, studying advanced spells. You seem to crave to seek knowledge beyond your power, such as Occlumency and Legilimency. If it were your wish, and Mr Malfoy’s, I may be able to provide lessons in my office in replacement to your secret lessons.”

“Seriously? That’s great! I’ll talk to Draco once he gets back.”

“No need, Harry. I will send a letter explaining everything. You will start on the first Saturday of term. 9 am sharp.”

And like the mysterious man he was, Dumbledore glided silently out of the classroom, leaving me alone, standing in the moonlight. Saturdays, right after breakfast. At least I have a mentor now. At least I’m working with Dumbledore now.


	12. Nicholas Flamel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OC-Harry writes a list of preparations for the next seven years, which will need to be updated, helps Ron and Hermione figure out who Flamel is, and eavesdrops on Snape and Quirrell's conversation in the Forbidden Forest

I went back to the Mirror of Erised multiple times over the Christmas holidays. And the library to read the books. This world is so much more, and I need to know everything about it if I’m going up against Voldy. The history of spells, Dark Magic, what magic can and can’t do, Arithmancy, alchemy, Muggle Studies, etcetera. I don’t think I have the willpower to become an Animagus yet, but I’ll wait until third year to do it. And I think I’m going to figure out a way to get technology and magic work together, but there isn’t anything in any of the books I’ve read on muggle studies and the history of magic that suggests that there was something that could work out. Bet there’s something in the Restricted Section or the Room of Requirement that’ll answer my questions.

When the holidays were over, Hermione sort of interrogated me and Ron on whether or not we found out who Nicholas Flamel was. Of course, she was upset we had fun instead of working over the holidays, but Ron reiterated that Christmas was a joyous and family time. Hermione still insisted we could’ve used a bit of time on research and was also a bit pissed I broke school rules and went out during the night to look for a weird mirror. I had to step in and say that now school was in, and we were all together, we could use the manpower of three to figure out who he was.

The second Gryffindor match of the season was at 11 today. A Saturday, so Draco and I couldn’t go to our weekly private sessions with Dumbledore. Not suggestive, we’re just learning _Finite Incantatem_. Learning the Patronus Charm took a toll on our magical strength, and it’s taking quite some time learning the spell-stopping spell. Draco and I have a hiding spot in the Owlery where we put letters in to each other to communicate now. The most recent one I wrote to him was that we could meet up in the Room of Requirement during the match but lie to our friends about the tomfoolery we’ll be getting up to.

I was sitting at a wooden table next to Ron and Hermione as they were playing wizard chess, when right on cue, Neville stumbles into the common room with a Leg-Locker Curse on him. Presumably, Draco, but I’ll question him later. Hermione threw the counter-curse on him, as everyone else, exception being me and Hermione, laughed jokingly.

“What happened?” Hermione asked, concerningly, as she led him over to sit with me and Ron.

“Malfoy,” Neville said shakily. “I met him outside the library, and he said he was looking to practice that on someone.”

“That stupid little git,” I exclaimed.

“Neville, you have to tell Professor McGonagall,” Hermione urged him. “Report him!”

Neville just shook his head. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“You’ve got to stand up to him, Neville,” Ron said. “He’s used to walking all over people, and that’s no excuse to lie down in front of him and make it easier.”

“There’s no need to tell me I’m not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy’s already done that.”

“Hey, Neville, you’re the bravest person I know, plus, you’re worth twelve of Malfoy,” I said in hopes of getting his spirits up. I passed him one of the Chocolate Frogs I got from Hermione at Christmas.

“Thanks Harry,” he said, his mouth slightly twitching into a smile. “Do you really think that?”

“You bet you I do. You’re my dormmate and my friend. Just promise me you’ll never let anyone get to you just because you’re not like them. There’s a reason the Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor and not Hufflepuff. Trust me on this.”

“Thanks again Harry,” he replied, smiling from ear to ear now. “Do you want the Chocolate Frog card? I don’t really collect them.”

“Oh yeah, sure. I myself am trying to build up a collection.”

As Neville walked up to our dorm, I turned over the card to see who I got this time. I really wanted to get Merlin as I hadn’t got him yet. By the way, Merlin wasn’t a Slytherin. He was a bloody Ravenclaw, and it’s about time the Bronze Eagles got some fucking form of representation other than some minor or otherwise unimportant-to-the-plot-until-very-much-later characters. Aaannd I didn’t get Merlin. I got Dumbledore, however. Oh shit, important and essential plot device inserted here. Gotta tell the others.

“Hey guys, guess what?!” I squealed.

“What is it, Harry?” Ron asked, tearing his eyes away from the chessboard.

“Flamel is on this Card. He worked with Dumbledore,” I whispered profusely to Ron and Hermione, making sure no one else could hear us.

“Oh! Stay here!” Hermione suddenly said. She rushed upstairs to her dorm, and a few minutes later, came running back down carrying a large book. Moving the chess set onto her seat and plunking the book on the now empty table, she started frantically started skimming through it. Around the first quarter of the book she pressed her finger against a paragraph.

“Here,” she whispered excitedly. “Flamel is the only known maker of the Philosopher’s Stone. The Elixir to Immortality.”

“The dog must be guarding that then,” Ron said. “Dumbledore must be keeping it safe for him and explains why Gringotts was almost robbed.”

“Yeah, I bet my penny Snape’s after it,” I added quietly but rushed.

“And what’s a penny?” Ron asked.

“British Muggle currency,” I replied.

As soon as almost everyone was gone, I went and grabbed the Cloak and whisked away to the Room of Requirement. By my estimates, it should take about twenty minutes before everyone is settled down at the Quidditch Pitch, between five and thirty minutes for the match to play, and another twenty minutes before everyone leaves. Remember the conversation between Snape and Quirrell in the Forbidden Forest. Pretend you went for a walk, strayed to near to the Forest, saw and followed them, and eavesdropping on their conversation. Between forty-five and seventy minutes I can be alone.

It was quicker this time around getting to the ROR. Five minutes of complete sprinting. Thank fuck for this fit-arse body. Draco was already in the Room as I walked in, reading _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_.

“Hey, when did you get here?” I asked, setting down my Cloak.

“About ten minutes ago… Must’ve run up here if you’ve got the Cloak with you.” Draco smirked.

“Yeah, it wasn’t that bad actually. Heads up on this mission I keep telling you about. Nicholas Flamel is an alchemist and creator of the Philosopher’s Stone-slash-Elixir of Immortality. It’s what the Cerberus is guarding, and Dumbledore wants to keep it safe. And there’s a certain teacher harbouring Dark Magic in the school. Still can’t tell you why.”

“Why though? I want to help. I’m growing, I swear.”

“Then, the hell was that Legs-Locker Curse on Neville for Christ’s sake?”

“I’m impulsive, and I got caught up in a spin. Father’s sent me a lengthy letter about beating Granger at being the top of the class. I’m always second to her, not counting you of course, and it’s really getting to me. A Muggleborn can’t beat me. Besides, Longbottom looked all sort of helpless and I couldn't resist trying that spell.”

“That’s no excuse. Ugh, you know what, fine. I understand where you’re coming from but pick your battles somewhere else. Like other Hufflepuff first-years. I don’t really care about Hufflepuff. Their common room is near the kitchens though, so they got that going for them. And she isn’t that Muggleborn or Granger. Her name is Hermione. Same with Ron and Neville, and everyone who isn’t in your house.”

“Oh yeah, always blame the Slytherins, ‘cos we’re the evil house. I wonder how that affects us? Oh wait, maybe it’s because three-quarters of the fucking school hates us. No wonder so many of us go down the Dark route…”

“I’m not blaming you or your house. I’m on your side. I’m blaming the stupid prejudices in this school and the wizarding world. Gryffindors are stupid and foolhardy. They’re jocks.”

“Yeah, yeah. And you’re only in Gryffindor because you need to stay on the correct plotline.”

“Can we just read for now. I need to write a to-do list for the next seven years. Like, we already wasted fifteen minutes.”

I grabbed my notebook and pen off my armchair and plumped down next to a round table. Between half an hour and fifty-five minutes before we dispense and leave. OK, let’s start.

  * Put Basilisk fang from dead Basilisk in ROR to destroy locket – y2
  * Get Kreacher to get locket – y5
  * Figure out Protego – y3/y4
  * Become an Animagus – y3
  * Don’t drive car to school – y2
  * Speak to Draco about Dobby – y1
  * Get Muggle textbooks to teach Draco about Muggle shit – y2
  * Practice wandless magic – y3/y4
  * Practice non-verbal magic – y4
  * Practice wandless non-verbal magic – y5
  * Place locket in ROR – y5
  * Find and place diadem in ROR to destroy – y5
  * Make Bombarda signature spell, then surprise Death Eaters with Expelliarmus – y5 through y7
  * Send owl to school about barrier being closed – y2
  * Keep Cedric away from Portkey Cup – y4
  * Blackmail Barty Crouch Junior – y4
  * Save Barty Crouch Senior – y4
  * Be on Ron’s side – y3
  * Be on Hermione’s side – y4
  * Defend Luna at all costs – y5, y6
  * Be there for Cho if Ced dies – y5
  * Learn _Petrificus Totalus_ so Lockhart doesn’t do anything – y2
  * No Polyjuice Potion – y2
  * Avoid Duelling Club – y2
  * Avoid the Basilisk speaking to me, so no one blames a 12-year-old for being the Heir of Slytherin – y2
  * Make a fucking scene whenever Lockhart tries to make a conversation – y2
  * Find Sirius – y3
  * Don’t kill Wormtail – y3
  * Don’t let Sirius die – y5
  * Make technology and magic work together – y5
  * Learn Apparition – y4
  * Figure out how to duplicate food, and ingredients without losing their magical properties, using magic



I feel like that’s enough for now, but it may be too much. I have to be prepared for May 2nd, 1998, and I have to have the advantage over Voldy. Wandless non-verbal magic is the most powerful magic there is, and it is imperative that I master it before the Battle. Original-Harry’s too thick to prepare himself in the long run, and I have to avoid all the stupid red herrings he goes after.

Oh. We have around five- and thirty-minutes left. Looking out of the window facing the Quidditch Pitch, I couldn’t see anyone flying. It can’t have been that long then. Draco was silent the entire time, engrossed in that nature book. He noticed my actions towards leaving and decided to vamoose himself. I left first, not looking behind me just in case someone saw. When I reached the first floor, there was a thunder of people rushing in from the Quidditch Pitch. Too many people, and I would never be able to find Ron and Hermione safely. Time for that little walk into the Forbidden Forest after all.

Even with the Cloak covering me, I had to hide behind one of the massive doors for a bit and then sprint to the Forest silently and seamlessly. Snape was deviating from the group of teachers, following Quirrell, who I assumed was walking on his own before heading into the Forest. I headed after them, careful not to step on crunchy leaves, fallen twigs, or run into anything that may cause me harm. The two teachers headed deep into the woods, my mind trying to keep as blank as possible because of Quirrellmort. I didn’t know whether the spectre of Voldy was powerful enough to use Legilimency, so I kept my thinking to a minimum. I watched from behind a large maple tree, and quietly listened in on their conversation. Snape talked in an angry tone, clearly to me hinting that he knew at some level what Quirrell was up to. Quirrell was acting his nervous self, stuttering at every other word. Snape was a double agent, and what he was doing was to protect the prophecy, but that doesn’t excuse his behaviour towards the students. No, I don’t think he was obsessed with Lily, it’s just that Lily was the first person in his life to show him some respect, compassion, and friendship. I think he idolised her in a way, like an innocent love.

The conversation was cut short and Snape head back out the Forest, with me on his heels (figuratively). I had to speak to Ron and Hermione about this, but tell them, I suspected Quirrell, not Snape. Snape’s the red herring. I travelled to beside the Lake once I was out of the Forest. The shore was empty, so I pulled off the Cloak and stuffed it into a robe pocket. Then I went straight for the Gryffindor Tower where I found Ron and Hermione talking next to the fire. The Gryffindor Seeker, Erin was playing chess with who I can only assume to be Angelina. Ron saw me walk in, and immediately started to fill me in on the match.

“Erin was amazing, Harry. she was wickedly fast on that Comet 360, and she caught the Snitch in five minutes flat. It was so fast, Snape looked like he was going to blow with rage. It’s fantastic we beat Hufflepuff, _and_ that Seeker they got. Cedric Diggory. Only made the team this year. He’s pretty decent.”

“Sounds great but I’ve got an update on the Philosopher’s Stone situation. So, I was taking a walk near the Lake when I saw Snape and Quirrell heading into the Forbidden Forest. I overhead them talking about the Stone. Well, hinting at it. I thought at first Snape wanted the Stone for himself, but then he mentioned something about loyalties, and I can only assume that’s Dumbledore. I think that either Snape or Quirrell wants the Stone for themselves.”

“Well, how can you be sure it’s Quirrell?” Hermione said in a hushed voice. “Suspecting Snape is plausible as he was one of the first to come over from the Dark side after You-Know-Who’s downfall, so it only makes sense that he wants to avenge his old master.”

“Yes, but if you notice from the older students talking about Quirrell, they say he was fine before that one-year trip. By his accounts, Quirrell had a run-in with vampires and hags in the Black Forest. Why not check in at Saint Mungo’s or the school hospital wing to get help? Take a Calming Potion? You-Know-Who was also suspected to be in one of the East European countries, so Quirrell must’ve been led astray and now doing as his master desires.”

“Yeah, we don’t even know that much about the trip Quirrell went on, so why could it not be him? It could be either Quirrell or Snape. But who knows? But I think there’s one thing for certain. It’ll be gone by next Tuesday if either of them manage to get past that dog and any enchantments Dumbledore put up and snatch it,” Ron said finally.


	13. The Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco talks about life in the castle

His life had never been so hectic. Exams were on the horizon, Blaise and Theo had begun obsessing over time management and which subjects to prioritize, Vincent and Greg were impetuously studying left and right, visibly perplexed on the number of topics they had to revise. Draco himself found the revision to be daunting and over-the-top yet persisted anyways in sake of making his father proud. Father usually was a cold man, but a family man nonetheless, and Draco knew he cared deeply for Mother and him. Getting at least Exceeds Expectations in all subjects was easy enough, and if Draco managed to get Outstanding, then it would do the Malfoy family and Slytherin proud. Harry, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care at all. Granted, he was one of the best in the year, and always managed to get an E or an O on his work, but he never bothered to put in any effort. It all seemed to come naturally to him. This bothered Draco because hard work usually led to connections and a decent, well-earned job. Maybe it was just Harry’s luck that got him to the top of the class.

Whenever a Quidditch match wasn’t playing, they continued to have their lessons with Professor Dumbledore in his office. Draco felt some anguish at the fact that they had to leave the Room of Requirement as it was the most useful room in the entire castle; and he suspected only Harry, he, and Professor Dumbledore were acutely aware of the room, which made it even more thrilling. Studying with Professor Dumbledore had its perks: they had now mastered _Finite Incantatem_ and now practicing _Alohamora_ and _Wingardium Leviosa_ on more complicated objects, such as complex locks, large boxes, and thick-set books. Draco thought he had mastered the two spells, but surprisingly, Charms class had only covered the basics and then some. Magic was all about power, strength, and trying not to focus too hard on the spell and object (if necessary) in action. Harry did also seem to struggle with the spells. It most likely showed he wasn’t as strong as he thought he was, but it did suit him nicely. As well as practicing spells, they got a chance to study using their own books, because Professor Dumbledore didn’t trust them with his own.

The letters Harry and Draco sent to each other were usually mundane things, like checking up and discussing whatever. Yet, as he was currently standing in the Owlery, letter in hand, it confirmed what he thought he overhead right before the start of Herbology earlier that day. That groundskeeper, Hagrid, got his hands on a Norwegian Ridgeback, and Harry, Weasley, and Granger were trying to convince him to hand the creature over to Weasley’s older brother Charlie, who worked with dragons in Romania. He couldn’t in his right mind understand why Hagrid decided to get a dragon. It was illegal for one, and soon enough it would be extremely noticeable for two. Why would he risk his job and his life for an untameable creature, especially a dragon? They needed mountains and other dragons to be around, not some stone- and wood-built hut and a man who doesn’t know what’s good for him half the time.

He couldn’t risk seeing the animal for himself by following Harry and his friends up to Hagrid’s hut, and he couldn’t report it either. Harry said if Draco reported it, it would result in House Point losses, plus a detention. He wrote on the back of the letter saying he had nothing to do with it and wished good luck on Harry’s exploits to get a creature into its natural habitat. One week later, when he was drenched in revision notes, shuffling them about on his way to the Owlery, a new letter arrived praising that Harry and his friends had accomplished their mission without run-ins with Filch or McGonagall. The Invisibility Cloak, Harry mentioned, that’s what what saved them. _An Invisibility Cloak?! How in the world did he manage to get an Invisibility Cloak?! And the original one at that!_ he had to question it later, as he just walked into a flying bat. Ghastly buggers, all weird and shit.

Nothing was more eventful than those last few weeks before exams. The letters had stopped exchanging, and the Quidditch final match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff had finally happened. Slytherin hadn’t been so good, and Ravenclaw had lost its last match to Hufflepuff by a close margin, even with that new Seeker, a 2nd year called Cho Chang. The winner of the Cup was Gryffindor, and after six years, they had finally knocked Slytherin off of its winning streak. And they were in the lead for the House Cup as well, with around 1059 points to Slytherin’s measly 901 points. Ravenclaw was right behind with 1032 points, and Hufflepuff had 925 points.

The school was soon to close, and Draco couldn’t wait to head back home again for the summer. He could use his eagle, Thor, to secretly communicate with Harry, though he had to do it when no one would be looking in the direction of his window on the very top floor. Yes, he lived in the attic. It was split into three, with a third being his bedroom, the other being designated attic, and the last being the house-elf quarters, so they don’t get ill. Well, Malfoy Manor had only one house elf. Dobby. He was treated fairly, made sure he wasn’t injuring himself as punishment, and as a whole was quite timid. Harry had an on-going conversation with Draco on Dobby’s future mishaps over the summer. The letters that would never arrive, the barrier being blocked, his whole shtick being getting Harry as far away from Hogwarts as possible to keep him away from whatever dangers that would occur. Now, Draco decided to talk to Dobby during the summer to keep him away from Harry’s house, even though that would risk his life. He would come up with a plan to keep Dobby from injuring Harry in order to save him. Harry said something of Salazar Slytherin’s would rise again, but he would defeat it. Could it be a snake? Quite likely, as Slytherin himself was fond of snakes, and was reported to own several well-cared snakes. And he was a Parselmouth. Harry said he was one too, and this further surprised Draco.

Draco reckoned things would only go south from here on out, since Harry had written those few letters. He feared the Dark Lord would rise again, and many people would die. He just didn’t want to be one of those.


	14. The Trapdoor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The duel between OC-Harry and Quirrell/Voldy finally happens

The hell with exams. The rooms were sweltering in the heat, and we either had to use quills and inkwells, or pens for those living in the Muggle world. Once the last exam is over, I would have to fight off Voldy. Flitwick had us make a pineapple tap-dance; McGonagall had us turn a mouse into a snuffbox; and Snape kept breathing down our necks as we tried to remember how to create a Forgetfulness Potion. The last exam was History of Magic, one of my favourite subjects, and we’d be free. One hour, and Binns finally let us go.

“Well, that was easy,” Hermione said as we walked down to the lake. “I needn’t’ve learnt about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Unready.”

“Yeah, you say that, but you can cope well under pressure,” Ron sighed. We sat down in the shade of a tall tree. Fred, George, and Lee were tickling the tentacles of the Giant Squid, who was basking in the shallow waters.

“No more revision,” he said happily.

“Oh yeah, but I’ve something important to tell you,” I said. “Tonight, we will get the Stone. We’ve got no more exams, and I have mapped it all out.”

“How? Can’t we just rest?” Ron complained.

“No, it has to be tonight. Fluffy likes music. It’s a Cerberus, and Cerberuses fall asleep to music. I’ll bring the flute Hagrid got me, and then, we’ll improvise from then on when we get through the trapdoor. There’s got to be around six enchantments to get through. Fluffy is Hagrid’s, a plant of Sprout’s, something charmed by Flitwick, something transfigured by McGonagall, something to fight by Quirrell, and something to do with Potions by Snape. If you follow my lead, then Quirrell and Snape won’t get the Stone for You-Know-Who.”

“Are you sure, Harry? That seems like a stretch,” Hermione said. “We could get into serious trouble if it falls through.”

“Hermione, we have the Invisibility Cloak,” I replied. “As long as none of us trip, I think we’ll be safe. And this is our destiny this year guys. Quirrell’s gonna take off with the Stone tonight. He’s going to use it to resurrect You-Know-Who. He’s been off all year, and the older students have been saying it’s incredibly strange.”

“If you’re really sure Harry, we’ll follow your lead,” Ron said. “We’re friends. It’s what friends do.”

“Now, come on. Lunch is in fifteen minutes, and I’m starving,” Hermione said.

After dinner, Ron played chess with Dean, casually helping him through the game, and Hermione and I talked about our Muggle lives, me pretending I know all about early 90s stuff. The only stuff I know comes from my uncle. He’s my dad’s brother, and the three of us get along really well. Really should’ve mentioned that. They’re good people. When Lee was the last one to head up to his dorm, I went up to my own dorm to get the Cloak, and the flute.

“Hey guys, let’s go. I got everything and we just got to mind the stairs, then–”

“What are you doing?” A voice trailed out from behind one of the armchairs by the fire. Neville stepped out from behind it, with Trevor croaking in his hands.

“Hey Neville. We just got something to do. Nothing you need to worry about,” I said nervously.

“You’re going out again, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, sorry Neville, it’s really important, and when it’s done, we’ll tell you all about it,” Hermione said.

“No. You’ll risk Gryffindor points. I won’t let you.”

“Neville, just go back to bed. Now’s not the time,” Ron said.

“I’ll fight you,” Neville said, running over to block the portrait door.

“ _Neville_ ,” Ron exploded. “get away from that hole, and don’t be an idiot–”

“Don’t call me an idiot,” said Neville. “I don’t think you should be breaking any rules! And you were the one who told me to stand up to people!”

“Yeah, but not to us,” Ron said in exasperation. “Neville, you don’t know what you’re doing!”

“Wait, stop. Neville please step aside. Ron, there’s no need for this,” I interjected nervously. “Neville, I know you are worried. I know you’re doing what’s right, but now is not the time. You have to listen to me, please. Step out of the way, and there won’t be any trouble. What we are going to do will save Hogwarts.”

“Then, why won’t you tell me?” Neville asked.

“Because I can’t afford to let too many people know. When it’s all over, I’ll tell you.”

“Yeah, fine. I give in. But you have to tell me. Promise?”

“I promise. I swear.”

Neville stepped aside reluctantly, and Ron, Hermione, and I rushed out of the Common Room, throwing the Cloak over us on the way. Ron and Hermione’s slippers muffled their footsteps, and I had to walk barefoot. It was cold, and there was a knot forming in my stomach. For the first time, I was going to face Voldy. And Quirrell. Not supposed to forget him. The first of five times I will duel Voldy, and I don’t know what to say. What will he look like? The one from the movies? From the books, A Very Potter Musical, or Potter Puppet Pals? What will he sound like? We ran across many stairs and corridors, hiding in the shadows at the first sign of movement, and an almost encounter with Peeves. Then we reached the third floor, the door was already ajar. Quirrell had already got in.

“OK, we’ll take off the Cloak after we shut the door, and I’ll use the flute to distract the dog while you get under the trapdoor. Got it?” I whispered.

“What about you?” Hermione asked in the same whispered tone.

“I’ll be right behind you, don’t worry.”

“Be careful.”

We slinked into the room, and the dog was asleep. There was a lyra abandoned next to it. The trapdoor was open, no paws left on it. While I played a simple tune, Hermione and Ron silently slid under the trapdoor, with me right behind them. The dog never stirred, and the flute was a convenient plot-point. I landed on something big, slithery, and soft.

“We must be miles under the school,” Hermione commented.

“Lucky this plant is here,” Ron said.

“Guys, this is the next enchantment. Professor Sprout’s.”

“Oh, that’s right. Alright, something big, has lots of vines? Ugh, I know this.”

“Lumos,” I lit my wand.

“Oh, I know this. I only recognise it because it was the only interesting bit in Herbology,” Ron said enthusiastically. “The Devil’s Snare. Strangles you. Wicked.”

“No, Ron, not wicked. It needs… it needs… Devil’s Snare, likes the damp and the dark…” Hermione replied.

“Well, light a fire then.”

“But there’s no wood!”

“No wood?!” Ron yelled in surprise. “Are you a witch or not?!”

“Oh, right, right. I think I’ve got it.” Hermione whispered a spell, possibly _Incendio_ , and her wand lit a fire right next to her. The plant had been slowly strangling us throughout, but we hadn’t noticed until now. The fire stopped it, and we fell through, landing in a dungeon corridor.

“Where do we go now?” Ron asked.

“That door over there. It’s brand new,” I said, pointing to the door right opposite us. We pushed through, entering a room with broomsticks, and tens of flying keys.

“Right, let’s find a big, silver key, with its wing possibly crumpled,” I commanded to Ron and Hermione.

“Well, let’s grab a broomstick and let’s go,” Ron said, grabbing one of the broomsticks. We got on them, me and Hermione being a little wary, but we managed it alright. We flew all around the high-ceilinged room. Five minutes of this, and Ron grabbed the right key, careful not to crumple its butterfly wings. They don’t seem to be questioning things much. Ron jammed the key into the door’s lock, and we silently pitter-pattered into the next room. There was a troll, but it was knocked out already.

“Lucky we don’t have to face that one,” Ron said.

The next room was the giant chess board. The fact that we beat it in sacrifice of Ron was tremendous. He was just knocked out and I had to take the last move to secure a checkmate. And the last room. The potions. Seven in total. Fires on both sides. Purple in the doorway ahead, black fire in the threshold behind. Hermione took charge, reading the riddle left several times before grabbing two small bottles. One small drink each.

“The black one is for you, Harry. And the purple one is for me. I need to take care of Ron.”

“Right, let’s do it. I can do it alone. You be careful with Ron okay, and I’ll take care of Quirrell. Oh, and make sure to tell Neville, but don’t let him tell anyone else.”

“Are you sure you can do this, Harry?”

“I swear, Hermione. It’s You-Know-Who. Only I can defeat him.”

“Get out alive. And I’ll see you on the other side.”

“Alright, bye.”

We chugged the potions and stepped through the fires. It didn’t hurt, just a little tingle. The scenery next reminded of that scene in the movie. You know the one. The Mirror of Erised stood in the middle, with Quirrell standing in front of it.

“You!”

“Yes, me,” he said calmly. “I was wondering when I would meet you, Potter.”

“Don’t give me that. You really think I would suspect Snape instead of you?”

“Well, the fact that you suspected me is smart already. You’re smarter than you look.”

“Oi, no. I don’t do flattery here. I know Voldemort’s on the back of your head. That’s why you wear that stupid turban.”

“You dare speak the Dark Lord’s name?” He hissed. He began to pace a little. Meaning either nervousness out of fear of Voldy, or a distraction.

“You’re not getting the Stone. You’ll die.”

“I will live forever, Potter. And the Boy-Who-Lived will die in a dark and dingy dungeon, where he should be.”

“Listen to me. You’ll never get the Stone. It’s literally impossible. And that mirror’s not going to be any good.”

“ _Potter! You know nothing. You understand nothing. I shall get the Stone from this Mirror, and you will die without friends. It is imperative you stop foiling my meticulous plan. Dumbledore cannot save you here. Love cannot save you. You are just the scapegoat. Why should you ever trust Dumbledore?_ ” A high, cold voice echoed through the room, ringing in my ears, messing with my tinnitus. For a second, I thought I had walked onto the set of A Very Potter Musical and expected Joe Walker to arrive any minute. No, seriously, Voldy really sounds like Joe Walker-Voldemort. I don’t know what’s worse.

“Show yourself then. Come on. I’m not afraid of you,” I yelled back.

“Well, if you insist, you nosy little brat. Congratulations on side-stepping through my plans. Now, come closer.”

He raised his wand, ropes bounding and dragging me towards the mirror, and as that happened, he started to unwrap the turban. Slowly… so slowly, the back of his head began to show a chalk-white face, snake-slits for a nose, and eyes so black… so, so black.

“ _Now, you see, we finally meet after all these years, Potter. Since you are here, you shall retrieve the Stone._ ”

“Seeing something in a mirror is not the same as really having it. I’ve seen your magic, Potter. You’re the most powerful wizard of your age, and it doesn’t make sense to use myself or someone different. And you will bow to your master.”

I had finally stopped right in front of them, Quirrell swishing his wand non-verbally. The ropes dissipated. I didn’t want to bow, I had to either fight it or break my back. It took every bit of my energy to fight it, but nothing swayed the magic, and I reluctantly bowed to Quirrell. A glimpse of red flashed in the mirror.

“What do you see in the mirror, boy?”

“I see nothing. All I see are my parents. What my heart desires. The mirror doesn’t lie.”

“ _He lies. He lies._ ”

“What do you see in the mirror, _boy_?!”

“I’m not lying, I swear.”

A weight befell my pocket, and placing my hand against it, I felt a hard, rough object in it. I couldn’t look Quirrell or Voldy in the eye. I just looked at the mirror.

“ _Do you take me for a fool boy. Once I have the Elixir of Immortality, I shall have a body of my own at last. Now, why don’t you give me the Stone in your pocket? Do you want to die… like your parents, who died begging for_ my _mercy?_ ”

“Never!”

My legs regained consciousness in fear, and I bolted for the now empty doorway. Voldy screamed “ _SEIZE HIM!_ ”, and the next second I felt Quirrell’s hand around my wrist. Needle-sharp pain shot through my head like lightning. I couldn’t see for a few moments and struggled to be free of Quirrell’s grip. Suddenly, he let go, and Voldy shrieked in anger. Quirrell couldn’t touch me. Of course. Not for another three years. His hands became blackened as he wrapped them around my throat. One kick, and he stumbled back.

“ _Kill him, you fool!_ ”

Quirrell raised his hand to cast the Killing Curse, yet I was too fast for him. A bolt and a jump, and I planted my hands on his face. More shrieks of pain, and then silence. I opened my eyes and looked down at the withered corpse of Quirrell. Peace at last. The mouth moved slightly, and a black cloud rose, whispered in Voldy’s voice, and came right at me. The scream of a woman, and my name echoed in my mind. _Harry!..._

Light poured in as I opened my eyes. Everything was blurry and hurt. There was a softness against my skin, and slight movement appeared so far away. If this was heaven, then I done fucked up. Harry would’ve lost a year of his life, and my dad would’ve lost a daughter who hadn’t come out as FTM or bi yet. I reached for my glasses sitting on the bedside table, and immediately sighed of relief. I hadn’t died, I was just in the hospital wing. Dumbledore had just arrived and glided over to my bed.

“Good afternoon, Harry,” he said calmly.

“Is the Stone alright? Did you destroy it?” I asked slowly.

“Yes, Mr and Mrs Flamel have agreed to destroy the Stone for good and will die a natural death.”

“Heads up, Quirrell’s dead, and the spirit of Voldemort has escaped, again.”

“Interesting. Very intriguing. Now, I see you have a collection of sweets and chocolates from Honeydukes here. The Weasley twins have attempted to send you a toilet seat, but Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t allow it. A one Mister Draco Malfoy seems to have sent you a get-well card, which he looks to have made himself.”

I picked up the only card that hadn’t been opened on the table. Inside there were little drawings of our Patronuses, and a small heart next to our names. A flutter swarmed my heart, and my face blushed a little. The actual fuck? This wasn’t supposed to happen

“I think I shall leave you two alone,” Dumbledore said ever mysteriously.

“What do you mean?”

He glided away before he could answer my question and another person took his place. Draco. His face expressed a slight pink tinge to his face, and he was smiling a little.

“I see you got my card.”

“Yeah, thanks. It was truly kind of you. Gotta remind you to keep an eye on Dobby. Check to see if he isn’t stealing letters or hurting himself, okay?”

“Gotcha, mate. I was just checking to see if you were alright. I heard through the grapevine you got yourself seriously injured and I got a tad worried.”

“Nah, I’m fine. Just fought off You-Know-Who, but I’m alright.”

“You fought off the Dark Lord?” Draco hissed. His eyes widened in surprise, fear, and excitement. “How? I-I can’t believe it.”

“Yeah, I can’t believe it either, but it happened, Don’t know how. Oh, and Quirrell’s dead, so we’re getting a new main Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

“Shame Professor Anvander or Professor Magicoll couldn’t teach us.”

“Yeah, I think because they’re assistant teachers, and they work with different years, we wouldn’t have them next year. At least the assistant teaching positions aren’t jinxed.”

“I wonder why, though? Aight, I’ve got a game of football with Blaise and Theo down by the Lake in a bit, so I’ll see you later.”

“See yah mate.”

The end-of-year feast was beautiful. I didn't focus much on the conversations around me; I just moved my attention to the food. Gryffindor had won, and I got a special student award or something, I wasn’t really paying attention at all. I kept Draco’s card safe in the inside pocket of my robes. Hagrid was extremely remorseful for trading valuable info for a dragon egg, but all was forgiven. The exam results came, and both me and Hermione got top marks, Ron getting decent ones, and Neville managing an Outstanding in Herbology to make up for getting a Poor in Potions. To be honest, I thought Snape was being very unfair. I hope Draco got some good grades. The train ride home was calm, and all I wanted to do was sleep, though Petunia and Vernon probably wouldn’t allow it.

In King’s Cross (or was it St Pancreas?), they came to pick me up, though they weren’t particularly fond with me surviving my first year. It was going to be a long arse summer…


End file.
